Some Total Highschool Drama: Reloaded
by loveyourbiggestfan
Summary: AU. Catfights, late nights. Hook-ups no one expected, to hook-ups that were just waiting to happen. Stereotypes, rivalries, a heck of a lot of drama and maybe even a few surprises. No one ever said highschool was going to be easy, did they? Revised.
1. First Days, Maybe Not So Great

**Summary****: AU. Catfights, late nights, hook-ups no one expected, to hook-ups that were just waiting to happen, stereotypes, rivalries, a heck of a lot of drama and maybe even a few surprises. No one ever said highschool was going to be easy, did they? (Revised from previous STHD).  
**

**(Feel free to skip over most of this entire first bit if you are NOT familiar with the original version)**

**I'll admit it right here. I kind of ... really missed writing STHD.**

**But it was heading in all the wrong directions. Too many plot holes. I got sick of most of the ideas I was writing about. I came up with some new plot ideas in the middle of all of it, and by then none of them seemed to fit. It was just a few chapters away from done, but I couldn't bring myself to write them. Not like that.**

**Sooooo, after a few months of thinking this over, I've officially decided to completely revise it. The pack of twenty-two will no longer be spread out in different areas of Canada, but attend the very same highschool. In York. Close to Toronto. And TDI never happened. Neither did the second season. Or the crazy 'Where Are The Losers Now?' scheme Chris had all planned out. But they're still in highschool, and this is their senior year. Some characters won't be completely themselves. Some plots will be the same, and I'll be taking little bits from my other stories. As cliche as this all sounds, I'll try to keep this as original and interesting as I possible can for you guys, alright? :D**

**The pairings will be **_**Heather/Ezekiel**_**, **_**Geoff/Bridgette, Duncan/Leshawna/Courtney/Harold, Noah/Izzy, Cody/Gwen/Trent**_**, and **_**Cody/Lindsay**_**. But some are subject to change.**

**Anyway, I guess I'll shut up now and let you guys get to it. ... unless you've already scrolled down.**

**Hope you all enjoy!**

_**Just so you know in advance**_**: Some POVs have little 'cutscenes' in between scenes. As soon as they're over, it resumes back to the first scene in the respective POV. **

_**Disclaimer**_**: TDI (c) Fresh Animation.**

**And about the lame title ... I just had to.**

* * *

Prologue

_It had rained for days._

_The local forecast lady claimed day after day it would finally come to an end that weekend. The weekend came. The rain pounded onto the streets harder than it had._

_With his eyes fixed miles and miles away, he counted the total number of cracks in his ceiling. He got up to a hundred and seven before it occured to him, that maybe he'd been more of a fool all this time than he'd thought. _

_"_This is a mistake_," she'd told him, right there, only several hours before, in the middle of Weston street. Neither of them had brought an umbrella, and neither had really cared. It fit the mood; the grey skies, the drops of saltwater dripping onto their heads. He thought of her long wavy hair, dampened severely by the rain. She'd touched his cheek, but he felt nothing then. He'd simply nodded, then watched as she started the other direction, holding her jacket tight around her chest to keep warm. After about ten minutes, he took the bus home._

_There was no way he would fall apart like this for anyone ever again, he decided.  
_

* * *

_And you still don't have the right look,  
And you don't have the right friends,  
Nothing changes but the faces,  
The names, and the trends  
__Highschool Never Ends_  
**- Bowling for Soup  
**

* * *

**Katie (Tuesday, 6:15am; 42 Fairbanks Avenue)**

No way. There was _no_ way.

I tucked a stay lock of black hair behind my ear, before hurling forward into the toilet a fourth time.

What could this mean? What was this _supposed_ to mean? I was totally fine up 'til now. No sign of fever, no signs of flu, no _nothing_. So exactly _what_ was happening to me just now? I threw up another round, then breathed heavily facing the cold linoleum floor. Seriously? The same aching thought struck me again. "No," I murmured, my cheeks flushed and my hands pressed against the black tiles.

With a long sigh, I pushed up to my knees.

My heart racing, I climbed on top of the bathroom counter, my knees hanging on the edge. I stared at the mirror, tugging at my left pigtail. Was I ever going to get rid of it? I'd worn the same look since second grade. And there I was, almost eight years later, tugging at the very same pigtail from way back when. There was a photograph taped onto my mirror that reminded me every day.

I thought of my first day of fifth grade, when I'd felt so sick I hid in the girl's bathrooms until it was time to be picked up. Mom had sent me off without a second thought, said it was just the butterflies. The second I got home, I cried and told her I never wanted to go to school ever again. My teacher had marked me absent for the rest of the week.

I'd grown up so much since then, but I guess highschool had that effect on everyone. A little throwing up here and there would definitely not keep me from being there for the first day of my last year of highschool. I blinked. _Ever._

Planning to gaze up towards the clock, I first glanced at my reflection a last time, before freezing up midway.

There, underneath my white cropped tank top, was a baby bump so small, I hadn't noticed it before. But it was there. And growing.

* * *

_"Hey, I just realized this, but you look alot like my next girlfriend."_  
**- Anonymous Pick-Up Lines, gotta love 'em.**

* * *

**Cody (Tuesday, 8:32am; York High)**

They call me the Codemeister.

I think it started in my freshman year, when this one senior a couple lockers down got all angsty after he couldn't work out his combination. Seeing no harm in making my way over and giving the guy a hand, I fiddled with the chain around it, and in no time at all, Locker 27 swung open. His jaw dropped, and he quickly asked me how I just did that. I shrugged, telling him I'd always had some sort of talent with locks.

And I'm guessing word spread, 'coz by the end of third period that day, I had a third of the student body calling me the 'Code Master'. Which eventually, as the days went by, got shortened to 'the Code_meister_'. I guess my little stunt then left quite the impression.

The funny thing is though, the-guy-who-couldn't-open-his-own-locker (his name was Carson, as I found out shortly after) opted to stay in touch throughout the rest of that year and after he graduated, even inviting me to a few of his concerts. Which was ironic, because after I'd opened his locker he told me I'd literally saved his life. He had tryouts for some extra curricular music program (he played the trumpet) that day, and some jerk had thrown his song sheets in there and somehow managed to screw up the lock. But anyway. The concerts.

I met the girl of my dreams at the concerts.

I first saw her, arriving late at the first concert of his I attended, finding an empty seat by the back. Everyone else in the room hadn't paid her much attention, ears locked into the music, but one look at her, and I _swear_, I was mesmerized by something, or rather, _someone _else. Her hair was dark turquoise with darker streaks, cut to her shoulders, and she had the most beautiful pale skin I had ever seen. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I have some weird fetish for goth girls or anything totally uncalled for like _that_, but she, _she_ was _much _different. In ways I couldn't explain to myself just yet. When the person sitting next to me asked me how I liked the concert towards the end, I, still caught in a daze, replied, "She's so ... _pretty_."

Needless to say, I sounded like a complete idiot. The drool hanging from the corners of my mouth then hadn't made me look any better either.

At the second concert, I found her outside the venue, selling tickets for just five dollars each. It was at that very moment I learned her name was Gwen. It was right there, printed on her nametag. I spent the next five minutes, staring at her nametag, dumbfounded for no particular reason. It wouldn't have been too bad if she hadn't thought I'd been staring at something ... _else_.

"Can I help you?" she'd snapped, offering a look that could kill. In anyone else's case, at least.

I'd chuckled anxiously, "Y-yeah, actually. One of the musicians performing tonight sort of gave me a free pass in-"

Gwen looked at me funny. "Whatever."

The third time, everyone was assigned seats. I happened to be seated front row. Next to her. I'll be the first to admit it, but my hormones were _really _kicking in then. Trying to act natural despite the current predicament I was in, I tried to make small talk. Start a conversation, you know. "Sooo, I'm guessing you're not selling tickets this time, huh?" This brought forth a few raised eyebrows.

"Not really, no."

"Oh," I replied, grinning like I was five, "That's great."

She simply rolled her eyes. My smile grew even wider. The thought of being inches away from her drove me crazy! And I'm guessing she had felt the same way, because the first chance she got, she asked the guy next to her if they could switch spots.

At the end of the show, Carson made his way over, and introduced his sister, the lovely goth girl girl sitting just two seats away.

"You two know eachother?" he questioned, his voice kind of weird.

"Oh yeah," she informed, sarcastically, "We're going at it big time."

* * *

I walked these halls like I owned a million bucks nowadays.

Slapping high-fives left and right, greeting the ladies ... I wasn't the most popular guy at school per say (please, save that for the jocks) but I was well-liked by a bunch of different people. And it felt good. No, to be honest, it felt amazing.

_If only she liked me as much_, I couldn't help but think, catching her gaze for a moment from down the corridor. She quickly turned away, grabbing her books and heading to find her first class. I'd spent the last few years playing it 'cool', still not knowing too much about her. _But this year is going to be different_, I promised myself afterwards, _I can almost feel it.  
_

* * *

_The year was 1995  
And I was too young to drive  
I felt so stuck on the inside of my life  
Woah oh oh_

_Just living up my life through my tv  
With all my favorite shows  
Wanted my life to work out so easy  
Don't care if anybody knows  
Yeahh_

_But now I'm old enough to drive  
No one can keep me inside  
Now got the day on my mind  
It's my life  
Woah oh_

**- TGIF, The Secret Handshake  
**

* * *

**Ezekiel (Tuesday, 12pm; the cafeteria)**

"... I think my face fell in my chicken no'oodle soup, eh."

* * *

We moved that summer. Piled into the 'old Jeep one morning and just drove off. Up to now, I still didn't quite understand _what _was going through my parents' minds when they decided to move us about three thousand kilometres so far away from home (Edmonton, Alberta) to the suburbs in Toronto. But I figured by the time I figured it out, I'd have already graduated from highschool.

I'd say it took us about three days to get there, breaks thrown into the mix. We'd stay overnight at a 'couple motels when it got too late, and stopped for gas at least twice. The whole ride, when I wasn't catching up on 'the latest' _Fresh Prince_ reruns I'd brought with me, I spent thinking. Or I slept. I even dreamt sometimes, eh. About the farm. About the city. About all the new people I was gonna meet there. The thought of it kind of freaked me out.

But I was going to have to deal with that.

* * *

"Yeah, and you might wanna get it out before someone sees and posts it all over the internet."

I jerked up, then quickly scanned the room for anyone that could've been watching. I then noticed my good buddy Harold, casually gnawing at his bologna sandwich. When I first met the guy, he was wearing a Marvin the Martian t-shirt and was wedgied over the school's flagpole. He took note of my toque and the fact I was garbed in a too-small wool jacket in the beginning of September. We became pals right away.

"Good call, eh," I answered, reaching for the paper towel next to me then wiping off my face. "I really hope noo' one saw that just now."

"Well, this_ is_ highschool we're talking about," the redhead stated under his breath, a little bit too casually. "Chances are, the whole cafeteria's watching us right now."

* * *

_"Shouldn't you think this over, you know? Before you decide to go through with this?"_

_"Last time I checked, I was a teenager."  
_

* * *

**Heather (Tuesday, 12pm; the cafeteria)**

"It's really not _that _big a deal anymore, Heather," assured Lindsay, blonde without a brain to boot, as she took dainty sips from her chocolate smoothie. "Everyone probably forgot about it by now. Really. It's like, _so_ yesterday's news!"

I failed to see the logic in this. There I was, disguised in an oversized pair of sunglasses, my head held low. To my right on the table in front of me, was a third gallon of _Häagen-Daz _I'd brought straight from the local convenience store.

She went on. "I mean, just think about it. You were going to dump him anyway! At least now-"

"Any louder, Lindsay?" I scowled, finally having heard enough. "I'm pretty sure the _entire student body_ would like to hear about my tragedy of the week for the fourteenth time now."

Alright. So maybe I _was_ exaggerating. To be honest, I even have a reputation for that. But can you imagine? Me? Heather, top of the food chain? Sporting top of the line designer clothing? And dumped? For the first time, _ever_? That boy had some sort of nerve, I'm telling you.

So I guess you're wondering what happened. Well, let me give you the recap, since the rest of the world's heard about it anyway. Until yesterday afternoon at 1:43, I was dating that loser Lucas Hodgson. There was an end-of-the-summer bash down at the beach, and what's a party without the most popular girl school? But back to the point. I left him for just a second, and the next thing I knew, he was all over miss Kirsten Barbados. I made my way over, my mouth hung open.

Then right there, in the middle of about a hundred of my peers, he told me:

"It's over."

* * *

Lindsay chewed on her lower lip. "I didn't mean-"

"Yeah, don't worry about it," I looked away, feeling very out of character. "I really shouldn't have overreacted like I always do ..." From ten tables down, I heard a _plop_.

She raised an eyebrow, then blinked a few times. "Have someone in mind?"

"Possibly," I smirked, "I'll make sure Lucas will eat his stupid heart out."

"You're kidding, right?" The blonde gasped, gazing over to where my eyes focused on. "I'm not sure about this one. He's not that ... oh, _please_ don't tell me you have your whole payback planned out _already. _And you can't _seriously_ be going through with this-"

"Watch me." From the corner of my eye, I did my best to remember the freak with his face dipped in Today's Special of chicken noodle soup.

* * *

_Anyone who claims he can see right through a woman is missing a lot._  
**- Groucho Marx**

* * *

**Duncan (Tuesday, 2:30pm; off campus)**

"I call her Princess," I chuckled, retelling my first day's events to Leshawna, "And she probably hates my guts."

She didn't laugh. "Hm, 's that so?"

I didn't say anything, knowing she'd come around eventually. It was a thirty minute walk back to our neighbourhood, and I had a damn good feeling she wouldn't keep her mouth shut for that long. After just over a minute, she started blabbing at my face like she usually did.

"So what's the girl's real name? What's she like?" After a brief pause, she added, "Besides the fact she hates your guts, 'coz you tell me that about all the girls you like.

" ... oh come on," she went on, but that wasn't anything new, "We've been tight for years, and now you're not gonna tell me 'bout your latest lady?"

Good 'ol Leshawna. "Well, I wouldn't exactly say she's mine just yet," I informed. "But she digs me. Those goody two-shoes just can't get their hands off bad boys like me ..."

* * *

I met Leshawna when I was five.

It was mid-July, and I was out in the frontyard making fun of whoever walked by, little badass I was. Her family was moving into the house next door, and the first time I saw her, she was wearing a poofy yellow dress. Needless to say, I made my way over and said a few not-so-nice things.

"Should've known city boys were nothin' but trouble," she groaned.

"Pfft, and where are you from, the ghetto?"

She rolled her eyes. "Shut it, white boy."

* * *

... "Huh. She got a pole sticking up her behind or somethin'?"

With a smirk, I enlightened this fact, "Probably."

* * *

_You seem too good, too good to be true  
_**- ****Tug of War****, Carly Rae Jepsen**

* * *

**Gwen (Tuesday, 10pm; Cloud Nine)**

I decided to spent my Tuesday night sitting alone in my room, scribbling furiously onto a piece of paper. School today had been tolerable at best, if _even_ tolerable. Let's just say, at that time, I wasn't very optimistic. I needed Cody Anderson, out of my face. I wouldn't tell him straight up, but I was hoping he'd take a hint eventually. ... oh, but who was I kidding? The guy's probably in love with me for all the wrong reasons, and I didn't even get why. I wasn't the most hideous teenager in the world per say, but funny he'd choose me over ... well, take a guess.

After ten minutes, I stomped downstairs and grabbed my purse.

"Where do you think you're going?" questioned my mother, stopping me as I reached for the door.

"Out." And I slammed the door before she could ask me anything else.

* * *

Halfway down the sidewalk, I realized I had no idea where I was going.

I paused, feeling an evening breeze passing through. _I should have brought a sweater_, I couldn't help but think. Still, it was too late to turn back now. I wouldn't let myself live this down if I turned back less than half an hour into it. So I kept walking. In a kind of embarrassing T-shirt. A little past my curfew on weeknights. Without my cell-phone. Sounds easy, right?

The streets were nearly bare, but at least the city was well lit. I took occasional glances left and right, looking for anything of interest. This one time I accidentally ran into a couple who wasn't too thrilled with me.

"Do you mind?" I looked up, noticing the tall man with his arm around some redhead. They went on past me before I got to have my say.

"Whatever," I muttered under my breath, coming towards an intersection.

That's when I heard it. The music.

It hit me like a ton of bricks. The thought of it overwhelmed me, forcing a headful of memories back where I would remember them. I remembered those days hearing my brother practise his trumpet for hours from my room, ever since I was little. I remember attending all of his concerts, though I never got the chance to tell him how much I appreciated them. He stopped playing a little over a few months ago. Told me he'd had it. Said he would never pick up another instrument for as long as he lived. I never quite understood that.

A sense of adrenaline, and without a second thought, I went after it. And the next thing I knew, I was standing in front of the Catfish Cafe.

I burst into the room, coming face to face with a certain green-eyed guitarist.

* * *

**Can't wait to here what you guys think.**

**But besides the point ... as a lot of you probably heard, we lost so much today. Here's to the King of Pop himself, hope he's still rocking it out there in Heaven. **

**Michael Jackson, 1958 - 2009 .**


	2. Wednesdays? Not Much Better

**(Again, feel free to skip over this first bit)**

_**Intrigued Soul**_**; What sucks here is that I've been spelling both 'Leshawna' and 'Lindsay' wrong since I first wrote their names on the site. xD I'll try to get them right this time around for ya. :) Thaaaanks for reviewing!**

_**thisobsessioniscontagious**_**; Naaaw. You want something utterly amazing? Go read your own stories. Thanks alot though, means alot.**

_**paulinaghost**_** ; To be honest, I have my mind dead set on most of these couples now, but go ahead and suggest some in your next review. Never know, might even use a few. ;) Thanks in advance by the way.**

_**bkreed**_**; LOL, thanks tons. :)**

_**Parody-lover**_**; Thought something was off. Oh well, just thought 'saltwater' sounded cooler. xD And I just heard about Billy Mays earlier this week. Celebrities seem to be passing out left and right these days. And thanks for reviewing bud. :) Sorry I wasn't able to get this update last Wednesday alongside yours, but hope you enjoy this one nonetheless.**

_**like you need to know**_** ; No G/B just yet, but there's some Bridgette in this one. Thanks for reviewing!**

_**crazy4pearlandTDI**_** ; Well, good thing you found this then. :) They're one of my favorites too, and glad you enjoyed it!**

_**Albert Einstein's Fangirl**_**; Three words: You're freakin' awesome. xD**

**Disclaimer: I do not own TDI.**

**EDIT: And yet ... I still spell 'Leshawna' wrong. I'll edit that, and a few other things I just keep forgetting. Sorry for the inconvenience. :P  
**

* * *

_You look like Audrey Hepburn, when you get all dressed up  
I have seen all your movies, 'cause Audrey's a stone fox, yeah_  
**- I Have No Sister, Oh No! Oh My!**

* * *

**Trent (Tuesday, 9:26pm; the Catfish Cafe)**

"You new around here?" Slightly amused, I scanned the room for anyone else that might've been referring too. For example, it could've easily been that mad lady by the counter over there, who'd caused some whole fuss about 'iced tea' with one of the workers. Or even the elderly Asian guy sitting alone at his table for two, repeatedly asking anyone who passed him by where he could find a good bowl 'of rice around here.

After about a minute though, I figured the guy was probably talking to me. "Nah. Moved back from Milwaukee a couple days ago. Stayed a couple years, but in me, I've got all proud Canadian blood."

I was sitting on one of the high stools by the counter, my best friend strapped tightly across my back (otherwise known as my favorite 'ol guitar, just incase that sounded really awkward). In front of me, behind the counter, stood a large teenager with tousled blond hair. He probably got tired of serving cappuccinos or something and decided to chat up storms with the customers instead. "Now that's what I'm talking about!" We slapped high-fives. "I grew up in this place, lived here all my life. To this day, I still get stoked everytime I order the sandwich-soup-doughnut deal at Tim Horton's."

He chuckled, thought it over for a moment, then corrected himself, "Alright, maybe sometimes I ... order more than that."

"That's cool, man," I grinned, "Can't say I blame ya. That deal alone could probably be the sole reason I moved back here in the first place."

"I know, right?" All of a sudden, his voice dropped down low as he informed me of the following: "And just between you and me, I heard there's going to be some amateur performing for the late shift tonight. I'll be honest, I'm usually easier on them newbies, but a little bird told me this would be this was gonna be his first public gig-"

"Trent Young," I interrupted, "You're looking at him."

The over-sized, yet also over-enthusiastic teenager gaped at me. "No way! ... not like that changes anything though," he shrugged, then continued after a pause, "Oh! The name's Owen, just so you know what to tell someone if they ask what's awesome at the Catfish Cafe."

"Well then, _Owen_ my man," at the same time, I heard my name being announced by some guy who introduced himself as Fred, "I guess this is the part where I prove you wrong."

* * *

I received my first guitar when I was six. My uncle had given it to me for Christmas, handing it to me in a messily-wrapped package. He'd arrived late that night, blue-faced from the traditional Toronto snowstorm. "Here you go, bud," he told me, when it was his turn to hand his present, "Who knows, you might just turn out to be the next Liam Gallagher." I thought of the days following after, when I'd spent every waking second trying to figure out that thing. Until finally, something pretty came out from those cheap six strings.

My father, on the other hand, wasn't too thrilled. "What kind of career are you trying to encourage my kid into?" I heard him one afternoon down the hall, his older brother on the line. Then he went on about how he should've been setting a better example, how it was _him_ who was the struggling musician here, while my father had himself the family he'd always dreamt of and a steady career. And that I'd be better off learning how to work a calculator than some stupid instrument anyway.

It goes without saying that we never heard much from my Uncle Al ever again.

* * *

"Hey." Less than five minutes later, I found myself standing on the small stage area, gazing over at a crowd of roughly twenty people. I coughed into the mic, despite my previous efforts of trying not to act like an idiot. Anyway. "How's everyone doing tonight?"

I forgot if I'd been expecting an answer or not, removing my guitar out of its case and strapping it over my shoulder. Looking back on it now, maybe it was a good thing I hadn't expected too much back then.

"This first song ... let's just say it's been stuck in my head since the day I discovered music," I didn't mean for these words to sting, "It's a classic."

As cheesy as this sounds, the moment I started that chord progression, I felt something different. I can't fully describe it, something _better_.

* * *

_"Today is gonna be the day  
That they're gonna throw it back to you ..."_

I was locked, all ears into the music.

_"... because maybe, you're gonna be the one who saves me  
And after all, you're my -"_

The cafe doors swung open. Vaguely, I made out the silhouette of a girl with dyed turqoise hair.

At one point, during the last chorus, I'd lost it - the music.

"No," she insisted, softly, "Keep going."

* * *

_And right now, I have you  
For a moment I can tell, I've got you  
Because your lips don't move  
And something is happening  
'coz your eyes tell me the truth  
I've put a spell over you_  
**- Spell, Marie Digby**

* * *

**Sadie (Wednesday, 9:14am; the walk-in clinic)**

I'd skipped school that morning, I realized, just to sit in the waiting room and glare at the clock.

"You're pregnant too?" I looked over to my left, noticing a teenager with the exact same anxious look on her face. She was thin, and wore two black pigtails on either side of her head.

"I think so. I'm taking the test later, just to make sure. Like, for all I know, I could just be fat.

"... think of it like, a murder a case. I'm pretty sure I am, but I need to know for sure before I do anything about it."

Pigtails didn't reply after that, resuming back to the similar sit-and-glare-at-the-clock-routine as me. I closed my eyes, trying to think back on how this had ever happened in the first place. _It was a mistake and you shouldn't have done it,_ reminded my inner do-right self I liked to call Smart Sadie. Smart Sadie and Typical Sadie were two totally different people in my book. One was ninety-eight-percent carefree and occasionally care_less_, and the other would have none of that. And would have no problem at all telling Typical Sadie so.

"I really hate this," admitted Pigtails, only ten years later (alright, possibly less), breaking the ice, "I threw up about six times the other day."

"Yeah," to this, both Smart Sadie and Typical Sadie nodded in disgust, "It's really gross and stuff."

"Tell me about it," she agreed, "I'm Katie, by the way."

I smiled. "I'm-"

"Sadie Furtado?" piped up the receptionist, carrying a clipboard in one hand. I stood from my chair, halfway down the corridor when Pigtails' name was also called. She caught up to me.

"Good luck, Sherlock," she remarked as we were only several feet away to getting our tests done. I laughed, realizing she'd come up with her own nickname for me. So it was _only_ fair for me to say ...

"You too, Pigtails, you too."

* * *

_"He's beautiful, Sadie." I was at camp then, when my mother called from the hospital one late summer evening. She explained how she'd gone into labour earlier than expected, and how after a grueling three hours, she had finally given birth to a beautiful baby boy. "I can't wait 'til you get to meet him."_

_I can't get over how disappointed I was then, staying up the next few days staring at the low ceiling. I remember taking myself out on walks sometimes, when I couldn't get some sleep. Camp had been fun before that, when I knew less, when I thought I knew that my kid brother would not be due for another few weeks. "His name is Andrew," she'd also mentioned. "I told him about you the second I held him in my arms, and all of a sudden he stopped crying."_

_My father called on my last day at Muskoka. I was sitting on my bunk, the last one left in my cabin. "If only your mother hadn't been so insistent in taking the bus," he said._

_On their way home from a neccassary check-up, Mom and Andrew crashed at Highway 403. There had been several survivors, but only one out of the two of them had made it out alive._

_"If only ... if only I'd made more of an effort to stop her ..."  
_

* * *

I think I fell apart inwardly when I heard the news.

"Well." Doctor Toban, garbed in a white lab coat from shoulders to ankles, seemed to miss the fact I was a teenager with no experience in this whatsoever, "You're pregnant, m'dear."

Grinning from ear to ear, she eventually caught on that I didn't quite share her enthusiasm. "Aw. There, there," she gently patted my head, and I sat there, unsure if that was supposed to make me feel better or not. "Do you need some time to-"

I nodded, proceeding down the hallway whether she was going to offer me do so or not. The ladies' restroom was small and bare, with only two stalls. I crept inside, feeling as unwelcome and strange as one might ever feel at the local walk-in clinic.

One look at the mirror, and I let myself really fall apart this time.

* * *

_Today, I announced to my friends at lunch that even though I'm a jock, I love to bake as well.  
The whole cafeteria did not break into song__**. **__MLIA.  
_**- courtesy of w w w. m y l i f e i s a v e r a g e . c o m  
**

* * *

**Bridgette (Wednesday, 12:37pm; the library)**

_justyourtypicalsurfergirl _has joined this chatroom.

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_hi!i'm_e-scope _has barged into this chatroom.

* * *

**mama'sboy80 says:** So, how's everyone liking their senior year so far?

**justyourtypicalsurfergirl says: **It's alright. Nothing's changed too much at least ... from what I've seen.

**mama'sboy80 says:** Yeah, I guess. For the most part.

**justyourtypicalsurfergirl says:** Why? Anything out of the ordinary happen to you today?

**mama'sboy80 says: **Naw. 'least not to me. I _did_ notice something goin' on with that Heather girl all morning.

**justyourtypicalsurfergirl says:** I talked to her once. Yeah, not so much of a sweet talker. Did she anything to you?

**mama'sboy80 says:** Once again. Not to me. Kind of glad though. She's been following that new kid around all day, trying to start up a conversation from what it looks to me.

**justyourtypicalsurfergirl says:** Her starting something with any new kid sounds like trouble to me. What do you think she wants-

**hi!i'm_e-scope says:** OMIGOSH, I THINK I KNOW HIM!111! That new kid I mean. I call him Zeke, though he doesn't seem to like me very much ... but he's SO cute. A little on the weird side, I might say, but-

**2smart4u says:** Well, you're one to talk.

**justyourtypicalsurfergirl says:** So I was saying-

**hi!i'm_e-scope says:** You don't think ... she _likes _the guy, right? Because, that would be like, SO funny! Like, LOL kind of funny even! LOL LOL LOL LOL LOL LOL !

_2smart2u_ has left this chatroom.

_mama'sboy80 _has left this chatroom.

**justyourtypicalsurfergirl says:** Anyways-

**hi!i'm_e-scope says: **You know, I was friends with a racoon once. And it was like, SO-

**justyourtypicalsurfergirl says: **Well, I guess I'll be going too then, seeing as I'm the only sane person left in this conversation. See you around.

_justyourtypicalsurfergirl _has left his chatroom.

**hi!i'm_e-scope says:** ... AWESOME, 'coz like there was this one time-

* * *

As I walked out of the library, I took note of this one girl with wild red hair, chuckling to herself as she typed madly on her keyboard. I took one crazy guess at who this probably was.

My bookbag hung over my shoulder, I started heading to my Math class, seeing that there was no harm at getting there early. Brushing a stray lock of light blonde hair behind my ear, I replayed my day so far. Nothing too exciting had happened to me yet today. Besides that conversation I had with three other seniors free period, but that had left me more freaked than optimistic if anything._ Whatever_, I thought, _I have the rest of this afternoon and three more days this week to make up for it._

The bulletin board caught my eye on way. On the top, in bright letters, was the quote of the day, "Surprise yourself, you never really know". It was cliche, but it did brighten my mood just a bit. Underneath were several fliers and sign-up sheets, corked in different vibrant colors. I scanned some of the lists, checking for anything that might've interested me. There was nothing to do with surfing just yet. I would know - I'd checked about five times. And the only other thing that I looked for ... as crazy as it sounds ...

"Do you think I should try out for the cheerleading squad?" I accidentally blurted out, to no one, really.

"Well, you're blonde and not scary looking," a muscular girl, dark-haired and kind of intimidating passed by, offering her two cents, "I say go for it."

She hadn't sound very thrilled at all, but for some reason, that had been enough to make me jot my name down on the said sign-up sheet in my worse-than-a-guy's penmanship.

* * *

_A child of five would understand this. Send someone to fetch a child of five.  
_**- Groucho Marx  
**

* * *

**Noah (Wednesday, 1:43pm; room 209)**

I crossed my arms, eyes fixed on the every movement of Mr. Dolimore, my homeroom teacher.

Number uno. He glanced at his sheets, stroking what was left of his grey sideburns as he opened his mouth to speak. "If you were involved in the vandalizing incident outside of the school earlier today, the principal would like to speak to you." All his words were recited in monotone.

"To anyone interested." _Two_. "Mr. Maclean, the new staff member here at York High would like to properly introduce himself in his office, A.K.A. the _detention hall_."

I did a quick check around the room. No one seemed interested, if not slightly amused. Unknowingly, I began tapping my fingernails against the edge of the desk. _Out with it, Dolly_, I mused at the impossibility that maybe I could send him irritated brain signals. _I know you're a very non-excitable man, much like myself, but just this _once_ ..._

_Three._ "Once more, to anyone interested," he paused, taking another peek at his papers. "In presenting a speech to be apart of this year's student council the beginning in October, there will be a meeting in room 216 during second period this Friday-"

Bingo.

I kicked back and relaxed, seeing no point in listening any further.

"Also, I seemed to have lost my wallet this morning. If anyone ... "

* * *

_I wish I was little bit taller, I wish I was a baller  
I wish I had a girl who looked good, I would call her  
I wish I had a rabbit in a hat with a bat and a '64 Impala_  
-**I Wish, Skee-Lo**

* * *

**Leshawna (Wednesday, 3pm; Johnny Rocket's)**

_"Hey babe, heard about your job down at that diner. I was originally going to call and laugh, but seeing as you're not picking up your phone, I guess I'll just sympathize with you a bit instead. On second thought, I'm not so much in the mood. But I felt like letting you in about that little prank I played this morning? You know, the one that involved me and a few other guys scribbling all over the school a bit? Yeah, can you believe it? I got caught right as I walked out of fourth period. No biggie though, I'll think of something. And if not, detention's actually been sort of comfortable to me these last few years, so hey, I'm not one to complain-"_

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.

* * *

Five minutes into it, I realized that I _really_ hate my job.

"Now let me tell it to you _straight_. I am NOT going to tolerate any of your-"

Let me introduce my boss. His name is Chef Hatchet, and he's probably one of the_ freakiest_ people I've ever seen. Three seconds with him and you feel like you're in the military. Or worse, maybe some of y'all would _rather_ be in the military then stand around this guy. Can't say I blame ya. I'd probably be one of those people.

"Excuse me-"

We were two new busgirls that afternoon, both forced into the tackiest uniforms that people pay _not_ to wear. But back to the point. The other chick's name is Beth. She's small, with railroad tracks glued to her teeth. She's not too bad though. I've got to say, she has this kind of spunk about her. Then again, sometimes she'd be better off keeping her mouth shut, for both our sakes.

"What's that? There will be NONE of that in MY diner, you got it? Now, you can start by scrubbing the toilets in the Ladies' room. Haven't been scrubbed since 1999, I recall. And you," he turned to me, frozen to my feet at the sight of this man's stare, "There must be a chicken suit somewhere back in the storage. Find it, put it on, and try not to scare away the customers, alright maggot?"

Hatchet sneered, exiting the kitchen to both our relief. "He'th creepy," said Beth.

I wandered off, trying to find that darned storage room. As clear as day, the legendary chicken suit that looked old enough to be my granda's great-grandma, was simply stacked on one of the front boxes. I picked it up, checked both ways even when I knew no one would be around, and slipped it on.

There was a mirror behind the door. I held my breath, and dusted it over, then took a hard good look at myself.

Well, it wasn't any worse than the uniform at least.

* * *

**xD Ohman, this was awfully fun to write. Hope you guys enjoyed.**

**(And again, the next bit's only so I can clear up a few things. So go ahead and skip this too. :P)**

**A few things:**

**- The first 'quote' I got from a song featured in Kitty-Euphoria (now Hello Kathryne)'s**_** Five**_**, something she wrote awhile back. She hasn't written much lately, but I suggest you check out her old stuff. Her writing's pretty amazing.**

**- About the 'iced tea' statement in Trent's POV: My cousin told me this story once about her teacher, who took a trip to the States once. At one of the cafes she visited, she asked for an 'iced tea' (expecting Nestea) and instead got a cup of actual tea with an iced cube in it. We live in Canada, so that struck as kind of weird. I don't think that's going to offend anyone living down there in the U.S. , but incase it did, sorry 'bout that.**

**- I totally ripped off 'the Catfish Cafe' from an old book I read a loooong time ago. Three years later, and the name's still stuck with me.**

**- Liam Gallagher is the lead singer of Oasis. I know, it'd seem more fitting to use the name of their lead guitarist instead, but his name is also Noah, and I didn't feel like explaining that they're two different people to people who probably already know.**

**- And the lyrics Trent's singing are from 'Wonderwall', probably one of the greatest songs ever.**

**- M L I A . c o m is win. **

**- Originally I was going to place Hatchet as the 'cafeteria lady' at their highschool, but I figured he'd probably get more screentime working at the diner. **

**- And Johnny Rockets doesn't have a mascot from what I know, but I just had to add that in. :D**

**- **_**justyourtypicalsurfergirl **__- _**not so surprisingly - is Bridgette, **_**mama'sboy80 **_**is DJ, 2smart4u is Noah, and **_**hi!i'm_e-scope ... **_**must I explain?**

**Any more questions? Go ahead and ask 'em. **

**Can't wait to here what you guys think!**

**Looooove you guys. :)**


	3. Thursdays? Don't Even Get Me Started

**I'm trying to get this updated every two to three weeks. It's summer and I get distracted alot. What more can I say?**

(You guessed it - feel free to skip over this if you'd like)

**Intrigued Soul ; Sorry if you felt that way about the IM bit, I just couldn't leave out the dashes. xD That example you typed up made my day though. But anyways, have I ever mentioned how much I'm loving your reviews so far? Not so much? Oh, well, I love your reviews. :) And I'm glad you're enjoying this alot.**

**bkreed ; To answer your question, you'll find out half and quarter of that in this very chapter. ;) ... ew, I sound like a commercial. Oh well. Thanks for reviewing!**

**xXxTDI AngelxXx ; Aw, thanks. Well, here's your update. :)**

**nikki-kun05 ; No, you're awesome. :D**

**thisobsessioniscontagious ; In that case, have all the random compliments you want. Thanks for another lovely review. :)**

**; Thanks mon. :] And no official D/C just yet (maybe a few hints), keep an eye out for a few in the next couple of chapters.**

**crazy4pearlandTDI ; Thank you, means lot. :)**

**Eh? ; Whoa, so is mine. xD We might have the same doctor... :/ But back to the point - thanks for reviewing!**

**Amethyst Ocean ; Thaaaaaank you :) For reviewing and updating TR, yesss . I needed that .**

**CarmillaD ; In regards to the whole Lewshana/Duncan/Courtney/Harold thing - No, I did not miss a comma. It's going to be more of three different one-sided pairings at first though, then there'll be the last person who is left unsure. It'll all unfold eventually. Sorry if it doesn't end up 'canon' though, it could go both ways. I'm a big fan of both canon AND fanon (oh, and crack), so I had to shake things up a bit this time around. Thanks for reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own TDI, or most of the lyrics, quotes, or whatever else I use to fill the in-betweens of POVs.  
**

* * *

_Today, I ate a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. It had two paper wrappers around it.  
I shared this news with my family out of excitement. They were not interested. MLIA._  
**- m y l i f e i s a v e r a ge . c o m**

* * *

**Eva (Thursday, 8:51am; room 114)**

"We're only trying to _help_ you!" enlightened Ms. Gallagher, the guidance counsellor lady who, according to several rumours, often didn't know what she was talking about. She sat behind her desk, demonstrating weird gestures into the air. Her eyes were bloodshot as I thought up a couple possibilities as to why this was so.

I sat there, not as 'thrilled' about the whole thing. "Look, if I had a problem, I'd tell someone. If I had a problem with someone, I'd tell them. And potentially give them a black-eye. But as of now, I'm lacking a problem that concerns you. Unless," I raised an eyebrow, "you'd _like_ a problem-"

"That's _exactly_ what I'm talking about!" She stood up, jerking a finger a few inches over her head. Thus, scared the living hell out of me. "Maybe the only _problem_ here, is _you_!" Without warning, she stormed out of the room at hyper speed, returning to her desk holding a pile of papers before I had the chance to casually walk out.

"Hold it right there, lady," I scowled, irritation seething from my lips, "Where do you think you're getting at _now_?"

"I have here, your school record," she held it up, just incase I had a hearing disability, "Which includes all the times you've spent after school at detention, a few written reports from your peers who've either carefully noticed or experienced your wrath firsthand, and-"

"Alright, I _get_ it." With a groan, I leaned back on my chair, folding my arms over my chest. "So I've gotten into some trouble over the last few years. Maybe the kid was giving me a hard time. No sweat. I don't have a problem. What of it?"

Ms. Galla-something threw me a sample of 'the look'. "If the kid you have in mind is Cody Anderson, he claims you _threw him across the cafeteria_ the other day after asking if the Today's Special of Sloppy Joe's was any good." Suddenly she was back to business, "What did that innocent young boy possibly do besides bringing up that simple question that provoked you to _throw him across the cafeteria_?

I shrugged. "Nothing."

"You're too rash, Evelyn. People wouldn't be as quick to clear the hallway if you weren't so ..._impetuous_, you understand?"

I didn't understand. They weren't kidding when they said she had no idea what she was talking about.

"Also, I heard recently from one of your neighborhood, who claims he saw you and your father in an argument Tuesday morning. It ended off with your father taking off in his truck. Has he come home recently?"

My thoughts drifted back to two days back. We had fighting been then, over things. Over stupid things. About my mother and how it was my fault she was gone now. _She can't possibly expect me to answer that. She's insane. She can't-_

"That's none of your business. Actually, now that I think of it, none of this is." I stood, clenching my fists. It was a familiar feeling.

"Maybe so," that lady replied, "But we can help you."

She turned to the couple waiting to my left, dressed in stripes and sporting berets. The male of the two had a French moustache. They waved. "This is Pierre and Antoinette, exchange students from Centre France," she went on, "They're_ nice_. They can teach you how to be _nice_ too-" _Go burn_, I thought inwardly, now halfway towards the door.

"I don't need them. I don't need you, or _anyone_."

With that, I stomped out of the room.

* * *

_"You never get a second chance to make a first impression."_  
**- Anonymous**

* * *

**Courtney (Thursday, 10:36am; room 215)**

"I hate this place," I murmured finally, after experiencing, by far, the worst two days of my life.

Clearly, without a doubt, I hadn't meant to end up in this horrible, horrible place. My last school was private, booked to the brim, classic like in the movies, and with the most refined people I have ever met. My father, clearly a lawyer at its finest, relocated after hearing about the local trouble occuring in this city lately. My mother, who clearly wasn't aware of what she was getting into, decided we could both use a nice change and brought us here to be with my father. She told me about the impelling film festivals, the bright lights, all of the interesting people that we'd meet. I told her no, I didn't want any of it. To put it simply, we ended up here anyway.

I slumped in my seat. For the first time in my life, I didn't consider my posture one bit.

"It's really not that bad," insisted a tall blonde I'd met at calculus first period, who, I couldn't help but notice, had a large chest. The girl had irritated me for two reasons. "Once you get used to it."

_Says you_, I spat to myself, _you've probably made out with every single attractive guy in the school,_ of course _you wouldn't think it's that bad!  
_

* * *

In my world, he was unbelievably rude jerk-face. But he'd introduced himself as Duncan Hughes on my first day, after third period. As _if_ I really wanted to know.

"If it isn't Princess, back from whatever fairytale she was in last time," he came by and slammed himself against my locker. I felt my face heat up as he took in ever bit of me, smirking as he made his way down. "Where have the likes of _you_ been all my life?"

_Those piercings are atrocious. And the blade of grass on your head isn't doing you much good either_. "Making sure I'd never have to run into _you_."

I'd stomped off, sometime before he asked for my phone number-

* * *

"Can you get my pencil?" Startled, I briefly turned to my right, coming face-to-face to a skinny redhead who wore a T-shirt with a hamburger on it. Two minutes later, I suddenly remembered his request.

"Can I what?"

He gave in a long sigh. "My pencil. Under your feet."

"Right," I rolled my eyes, bending over to pick up the said object. I handed it over. "You could've just said so in the first place."

* * *

_I'm so tired of the phone baby  
I don't like the tone of the way we  
Say I love you a thousand times  
We say those words but we can't look into each others eyes  
- __**At Least We Made It This Far, Relient K**_

* * *

**Lindsay (Thursday, 12:13pm; the Matrix*)**

I spent most of my lunch period wandering down the hall, since I couldn't find the room for the Student's Paper. Mr. Dolimore asked if I could bring a bunch of papers right after second period over to Room 116 before the end of the day. I didn't mind, really. Seeing as Heather was already planning on running around the entire second floor again trying to lure in that Erwin kid. Or whatever his name was. I tend to forget sometimes. And seeing as I had no one else to sit and embrace today's mystery meat with today...

Was it really that shocking?

None of the other girls liked me too much. Heather told me it was probably because of the way all the guys looked at me. I never quite got that. Sometime after though, I got this idea that even all the girls with_out_ boyfriends somehow found other reasons to hate me. Like this one girl first period today. I think she was staring at my boobs for some reason... she seemed kind of mad. Anyway. Chilling with the guys would've been my second choice. And I knew they would've pulled me in anyway if I got too close.

But I figured that maybe, I could have some time to myself for awhile.

Ten minutes into it, I let myself think of Tyler.

We were the talk of the town, those first weeks we'd started dating. I was the daughter of the York's own multi-millionare, and his dad was a well-known athlete. It only made sense for the two of us to be all over the news, right? I didn't care much for the press though. He was more than I could've possibly asked for, and I'm incredibly wrong if I don't admit right here, but they were the most happiest months of my life. I broke up with him shortly after, for reasons I couldn't explain.

He fell apart when I told him. He told me I'd regret this someday, and he was wrong. I regretted it the same moment I'd said it.

* * *

"Finally!" Also a senior, a dark-skinned girl popped her head out of a door as I made my way down the same hallway a seventh time. "We've been waiting for you the whole day!"

I stared, trying to remember if I knew this person or not. "Is this Room 116?"

She nodded, and I offered her the papers, which she willingly took. "You're the new advice columnist, right? 'bout time, you were supposed to be here over five minutes ago. Claire sent you? Total shame she had to drop out this year, huh? Oh wait. You wouldn't know. She's under an alias when she dishes out her word of advice. Whoops. Second thought, you would know. Since she _is_ the one who sent you, if I'm not mistaken?"

I considered the girl with curly hair I ran into a little earlier, swapping spit with a guy I recognized vaguely from my History class.

"What's a-"

"Just someone people write to, about their problems and personal concerns and what-not." She looked back at me. "You're a little too blonde for my liking, but I guess you'll do for now."

"I'm supposed to what-"

She grinned. "Perfect! I'm Rosie, by the way. We have meetings three times a week during lunch hours, and sometimes we work overtime after school." Rosie paused, lowering her tone and leaning a bit forward. "From now on, you are under the alias of Sally." Finally satisfied, she scurried back into the room she appeared out of, shutting the door behind her.

I frowned, starting my way back down the hall. Suddenly it hit me. I turned back, unable to stop myself before I noticed no one was there. "But I always thought my name was Latoya!"

* * *

_Betty can't quit carving question marks in my wrist  
How come we're so alone?  
We waste away the days with nicotine and television samples  
From an era we hate to admit we embrace  
- _**The Future Freaks Me Out, Motion City Soundtrack**

* * *

**Geoff (Thursday, 2:28pm; off-campus)**

"You're kidding."

"No man, I'm dead serious." I was, in fact, dead serious.

DJ's eyes widened, and he yelled out, a heck of alot louded than I wanted him too, "Dude! When are you gonna tell her-"

Heads turned. This was highschool, so, no surprise there. I scanned the area, noticing a certain green-eyed, blonde piece of perfection as she made her way over, her face sparkling. "Tone it down, she's coming."

Bridgette ran into my arms, pulling me into an embrace. "I missed you."

I'd been gone all summer at some training camp, my plane arriving just time in for fourth period. "You can't imagine how hard it was for me not to run up and kiss you during Geography."

"You guys make me sick," my buddy since diapers, the DJ-man himself, rolled his eyes, "I better get going. Mama's cooking up her famous beef jerkey today."

My girlfriend pulled away for a second, grinning at the muscular Jamaican. " '_Mama'sboy80_' ?"

" '_Yourtypicalsurfergirl_' ?" He shot back, matching her smile. "_Please_."

I made a face. "No, I'm pretty sure it's _you_ guys who make _me_ sick."

* * *

"I need to tell you something," announced Bridgette, over thick smoothies. We were at the local diner now, talking about everything going on in our lives, what the other had missed these last few months, and occassionally laughing over absolutely nothing at all. Just like any normal couple. We caused a few scenes, no doubt. The two of us were totally used to that.

"Same here," I said proudly, though I felt nerves beneath my skin.

She smiled. "Alright. Me first."

"Go right ahead, sunshine." I could wait. Months, even.

"But you have to guess first, okay?" She casually took a sip out of her double chocolate delight. "I'll tell you if you're right."

I rubbed my chin, coming up with an even weirder face than earlier. "Uhh, you're pregnant?"

"You really think I'd tell you that over smoothies?"

"So you are?"

"No!"

"No, you don't like smoothies?"

"What?"

"You're not dumping me for the busgirl over there, right?" I referred to the one assigned to clean toilets who tripped over herself alot.

"NO, GEOFF!"

I leaned back on our booth, flashing her a toothy grin. "Huh. I guess you'll just have to tell me then."

* * *

_If she loves you, let her go_  
**- Lollipop, Mika**

* * *

**Tyler (Thursday, 5pm; Region Park)**

The adrenaline rushing through my veins, the determination seeping in my blood, I charged for the net, the ball at my feet. The sweat dripping from my forehead, my life flashing before my eyes on fast forward, not too far back in my thoughts. The memories of her surrounding my every move. These things, distractions some people might put it, only pushed me harder. I gritted through the teeth, then kicked halfway across the field, a familiar yet distant kind of force charging through my dominant leg. The ball recoiled, bouncing off the net after hitting it hard.

_You weren't good enough._

_You're never good enough._

I jogged over to retrieve it, passing it back and forth between the inward sides of my cleats. I hear those words all the time.

_You weren't good enough for her. _When she ended it, that's all people wanted me to hear. The same people who said I possibly couldn't ask the prettiest girl in school out, the same people who showered me with parties all night and high-fives those months after I had. It started with disbelief and ended with disappointment. It was crazy how easy it was for people switch sides. But maybe that was the thing. My older brother had been right all along, since that one night, a beer in his fist. People only cheered you on just to watch you fall.

I still can't get over it. That day at the beach, the leftover waves crashing down on our feet by the shoreland, our fingers buried in the sand and intertwined with eachothers. It was perfect. Sickeningly, freakin', perfect. She chose that moment to ruin the rest of my life. "Tyler?"

Although she'd sometimes mixed up everyone else's names, I took pride in the fact she usually remembered mine. By the third week, anyway. "Yeah, babe?"

That's exactly how it began. So it innocently, so ... I forgot most of what took place, besides that. Not exactly something I wanted to remember. But the thing that crushed me the most, the one thing I wanted the most to forget all together, was the one thing that rang in my head for all the days following after.

She took in a deep breath. "I think we should start seeing other people."

It's not like I didn't try getting over her. Because like any normal recently-dumped person would do, I did.

I attended even more parties out of pity alone, forced myself into talking to other girls, went a little further than that with other girls ...

I was all a one-goal-at-a-time kind of guy. When _she_ called our relationship off, I spent the next few days trying to accept that. When the reality kicked in, I spent the spent the next few months trying to forget every little trace of Lindsay Grace Parker.

* * *

_Tucking a stray lock of dark brown hair behind her ear, she pushed herself off the bed to retrieve her clothes, scattered all over the floor. I laid there, under the covers, one arm over my bare chest. She found her way back to my side moments later, wearing my T-shirt, sitting up. "You're my first, just so you know."_

_I nodded. She definitely wasn't my first._

_I thought back to earlier that night, when she'd approached me on the dance floor, shaking her hips promiscuously, locked into the beat. "I'm Tyler," I was first to introduce myself, offering a sly smirk as she held in her giggles. _

_"My mother named me Katherine and I hate it," she replied, a little bitter, "Call me Katie."  
_

* * *

"Tyler West!" I turned around, suddenly snapped out of all my thoughts. It was like she appeared out of my memory, because suddenly, she was standing across from me, calling my name from the sidelines. Fully-clothed, to my relief. I froze, my heart skipping a beat as I noticed her face.

"We need to talk," said Katie.

* * *

*** The Matrix = The front foyer. Idea stolen from a highschool in my area :)**

**I'm not incredibly proud of this chapter, but I wrote this with less inspiration than with the last two. Help me out? Recommend me some good music in your next review, or send me a PM. I'd appreciate it like crazy.**

**- You'll only get the reference of the French couple in Eva's POV if you used to read the previous STHD. This time around they won't ... be around. Much.**

**Sorry for the wait, by the way, guys. Reviews are loved.**

**- Trish**


	4. Oh, TGIF

**So, it's been a crazy looooooong time. But what can I say? You can go ahead and blame life for that.**

**( ... you guys remember the drill ... ? )**

**paulinaghost**** ; Thank you so much! I actually got my idea to do 'I'm In Love With A Stud' a long way back because you suggested Justin/Courtney in your review here. They won't be officially in this story, but be assured, because of one thing in common, they'll be interacting a bunch as the chapters progress.**

**crazy4pearlandTDI**** ; Ah, B/G. Also one of my all-times faves. :) Sorry to leave you hanging for quite a bit - but hopefully you'll enjoy this update?**

**Intrigued Soul**** ; I wonder, who **_**did**_**get Sadie pregnant? ;) You'll find out. Or not. I'm still fdeciding. Either way, thanks for another one of your lovely reviews. :)**

**bkreed****; Again, sorry I couldn't "Update soon! :D"! Maybe this chapter'll make up for it? :)**

**Parody-Lover****; Surprisingly enough, I actually still haven't seen that movie, but I'll be sure to soontimes - and I'll be looking forward to that counsellor bit, haha. Hate to disappoint, but Bridgette's news won't be unfolded in this one. But stick around for awhile longer - thanks for the review. :)**

**thisobsessioniscontagious****; Thanks lots for the songs! Reminds me, I still need to update my iTunes Library. A bunch of your recommendations will find their way onto my iPod, and perhaps in future chapters. I know, I know. I promised you a fast thank-you update, really sorry about that. But I hope you'll love this chapter. :)**

**Eh?****; I absolutely adore MLIA. Whenever I need some cheering up, I automatically know where to go. :) And thanks! I think I've finally found it.**

**CarmillaD****; No problem, hun. Thanks for reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: Despite my absence, I still don't own anything, save for my imagination and the fresh pair of underwear I am wearing right now.  


* * *

**

_Kids with guns, kids with guns  
Easy does it, easy does it  
They've got something to say no too  
_**- Kids With Guns, Gorillaz

* * *

**

**Noah (Friday, 11:45am; location: ?)**

_The confidence of ignorance will always overcome indecision of knowledge._

I considered this at the oddest of times, laying flat against the tiled floor of an eight by eight square-foot space. The room was pitch dark - and I couldn't help but notice - smelled vaguely of the same cheap brand of detergent wash I'd discovered in my mother's toiletries closet one lazy afternoon. I cringed. There was a time my entire wardrobe had been drenched with this foul smell - all the way up to the seventh grade, when I had insisted my she-forebearer adapt to using "Mr. Clean". She responded with a dragging lecture about how I should appreciate the sacrifices she made for me on a day-to-day basis, doing the laundry for her nine offspring for one thing. I enlightened the fact I still failed to see the logic in that. Needless to say, from that day forward, I unvoluntarily did my own loads. The irony of sharing your opinion sometimes - your peers usually don't like hearing it. Funny, how far the mind can wander simply because of the stench of crappy detergent wash.

Puncuating my thoughts, I suddenly realized my head felt itchy. I attempted bringing one hand up to quicky solve this issue. Seeing as I was unable to, I tried my other fist. It finally hit me that my hands were clasped securely behind my back. ... again, funny.

This is when the logic of the timing of that following quote kicked in. Simply, I had had no absolute idea to where the hell I was at that very moment. Did that mean I was about to lose my mind over this? No. ..._ fuck _no. What options did that leave me with then? I contemplated, wondering on my own if there really were any. Anything that needed to be done with my arms was for the meantime, indoubtfully impossible, and since I'd never been much of a buff kid to begin with, it was just about as improbable for me to find and crawl my way out using my scrawny legs alone. With a pause, I suddenly realized I'd severely lowered my own self-esteem. I shrugged that one thought off in a hurry though. I _could_ just, _sit here_. You know, how kids these days say it, and _'chill'_.

... yeah, I was definitely running out of options.

So I tried struggling out of my fcurrent predicament, squirming like a complete idiot and all. The one advantage was that I was almost positive no one was around to see me losing my totally cool composure, but as I fell over and my head landed on something surprisingly very bouncy, I found out that even that, I was wrong about. ... wait, _bouncy_?

I looked up, finding a mass of red hair above me, the rare something I _could_ see in this dark room. Then, as they were revealed, green orbs. _Bright_ green orbs. Out of nowhere, I heard a yawn, quickly turning into a chuckle.

"Hehe. I figured you liked my boobs." Two things I was sure of, at last. One; unfortunately, I was most definitely not alone, wherever I was. Two, whoever was in here with me was indeed female. It _had_, of course, been a female's voice, high-pitched and loud and familiar in ways. As if I'd heard it someplace, somewhere, at some time before ... I then recalled something she'd just said. _Boobs_, was it? Oh crap,_ boobs_! I was leaning over her _boobs_! "I mean, don't get me wrong, I caught you staring at them aaaaaaaaall day, and now that ... I just sorta figured that-"

I got up in a hurry, which I'll admit, took quite some effort. And then suddenly, I blew over. "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU AND WHERE THE HELL ARE WE AND WHY THE HELL ARE WE HERE? I SWEAR ON MY FAT AUNT PERCY'S GRAVE YOU BETTER GIVE ME AN ANSWER, AND _NO_, I DO_ NOT _LIKE YOUR BOOBS!"

This unidentifiable female debated this over for a moment. I pictured her shrugging as she said this. "Hmm. Well, I always thought you were a little square."

My face stared in disbelief, if she could see.

But she went on. Talking approximately two hundred miles per hour. "My name is Izzy Cordelli. We chatted once under aliases in the library one time, yeah? Pretty sad you don't remember me, actually. We've hung out since yesterday afternoon, does_ that _ring a bell? Then it got real late so I thought we could just crash here in this janitor's closet for the night. Don't worry though, we didn't do anything, incase you were wondering, hehe. Oh! And your hands are tied because you tried getting away at various times throughout the night, sneaky you. But moving on! It's been my dream of running for student council president since the third grade ... well, besides bungee-jumping off the CN Tower and swimming with hammerhead sharks, but ANYWAYS! Lately I've realized that maybe this isn't the destiny for me, but I heard YOU were running and I'm really hoping this year's president doesn't end up to be some plastic two-faced jerk again, you know? So yeah, in order to prevent such from happening, I decided JUST yesterday that I'm going to make sure that YOU, wonderful wonderful YOU, wins first prize, baby!"

... just when I thought she'd never finish. "Right. Well, you properly answered _one _of my questions. ... and took a hurtful stab towards my sexuality." I rolled my eyes then. "But I'm still not sold on the story of how we got here in the first place? Tell me. Start from the beggining if you have to-"

I regretted those words as soon as they came out of my mouth. And so, she went off all over again, this time, twice as fast as she just had.

* * *

_Have you lost all your mind, or has she taken all of yours too?  
_**- She's Got You High, Mumm-Ra (available on "500 Days of Summer" soundtrack)

* * *

**

**Izzy (Friday, 11:55am; the janitor's closet, no biggie)**

I formally introduced myself to Noah Reeves on a partly cloudy Thursday that happened to be just yesterday.

There was some kind of comfort I felt sitting in trees on cool days. How the leaves blew along with the breeze and tickled my skin as I was among them, and how every so often the occassional bird would hang around for a bit on the same branch as I, chirping a little tune before flying off for some wormy dinner. The last reason, was that it gave me a nice place to just sit and think for awhile, as totally cliché and normal as that may make me sound. There, I got to be with the world yet still be so far up away from it, where I sometimes watched people pass or sit on the bench under me. I'd witnessed a total of twenty-two make-out sessions and seven break-ups this week as of yet, somehow being able to restrain myself from getting mixed up with everyone else's businesses. ... well maybe I popped out a few times, hehe. Possibly more.

Needless to say though, when Noah came into view, taking a seat on the empty bench below me before pulling out a book, I couldn't help myself. He was just _so_ ... _drenched with mystique, _there, in his maroon argyle sweater, and his dark bangs sweeping over his eyes. Best part was, it was like he had nooooo clue I was even there, just ten feet up over his head. I mean. With his face buried within the pages of his novel and all. But I really hadn't meant to trample him, save for knocking him right off that bench. Now that I think of it, it was real horrible timing, considering how I wasn't even planning to pounce for another few. Still, there I went - clumsy, _clumsy_ me - falling from one side of the branch at the very moment I leaned over too far, trying to get close enough to get a whiff of his scent. _Did bookworm queers strut around wearing cologne? _Ha! Can't blame me for wanting to know now, can you? Back to my story. In milliseconds, I was in his arms. (Significantly awkwardly, like he'd never been touched by a girl before!) I must've totally caught him off guard, since like, next thing I knew, he was tummy-flat on the pavement and I was sitting rather comfortably on his back. Pfft. Like he'd never experienced girls falling out of trees before!

"Well." I chuckled some. "I've wanted to meet you for some time now, Noah-boy! Though I wasn't expecting things to turn out quite like this ..."

He struggled under me, until finally he gathered enough strength to utter the next couple words: "Get ... _off_ me ..."

After a beat, he added, reluctantly:

"_Please?_"

"Gee, to be honest," I started off. We were both on the bench now, though I'd insisted several times we talk on the tree. He stayed though, that was what mattered. Especially after all his crazy attempts in trying to get away. "From the news that you're running for council this year, to your flurry of sarcastic remarks - I've heard_ plenty _about you, Noah Reeves."

In response, he twitched. Then coughed. By that time, I was used to this reply. Now, with an eyebrow raised, he said, as-a-matter-of-factly, "Must say. I've heard plenty about you too. Though whenever a name has to come up, it's always under the terms 'psycho' or 'mad woman'." His expression remained as monotone as the lack of expression in his voice. This never bothered me in the slightest, though.

"Can't say I'm surprised." A trademark grin was plastered on my face as I replied, I was sure. "Like, I remember this one time ... oh my gosh, it was too funny! ... it was my fifth grade field trip to the zoo, and I think I wandered off into ... I can't remember, one of the control rooms, something like that? You know how we were back then, ANY other kid in my position would've clicked and experimented with every single button there too, right? What was SO silly though, was that out of nowhere, all the animals were let loose. I could see it all over the fifty screens in front of me. Like you could control all their cages from that little room? Stupid, right? Then again, who am I to complain? I LOVE animals! And trust me, the minute I first got there, I JUST knew they needed to be set free. Like, this one elephant was totally sending me depressing brain signals, you know?"

To this, he looked even less amused than earlier. "You're insane."

"We're playing the name game now? You didn't mention! Anyways, you're like, fully wrong. It's Izzy! Duh."

Noah Reeves face-palmed.

Time flew. Before we knew it, it was eleven sharp, and it had started to rain.

"I better get home," he mumbled, his book soaked, held over his head in effort to keep his hair dry. His face and tone were as flat as could be, still. "Actually, I should've left over seven hours ago, save for the fact you decided to go and keep me partly hostage on school grounds."

"... speaking of _actually_!" The light-bulb went off, and I suddenly remembered the technique I had learned that would certainly come in handy. "I learned how to break locks just last week. How's camping at school tonight sound?"

"Completely out of the question."

Thunder struck.

He considered his hair, probably. "... okay, fine."

"Hey, Noah?" I brought up, all smiles. We were walking back towards York High now, the school the two of us had attended, for all these years. By instinct, he looked up. "Have you gotten yourself a campaign manager yet?"

* * *

_And if he, blind, lead the blind,  
Both shall fall into the ditch  
_**- Book of Matthew, 15:14

* * *

**

**DJ (Friday, 1:22pm; room 114)**

Free period. Waiting by the guidance counsellor's. I was here for one reason, and one reason only.

If anyone were to ask me what that reason was, and I were to tell them, I'd say a good nine out of ten would think I'm partially insane. I wouldn't even need to explain it. All I'd have to do is mention it, and just wanting to do with that reason would get me a nice slap on the back along with, "Davis James Harrison, have you gone out of _your freakin' mind_?"

And the million-dollar answer to that question would be, "Yes, most likely."

See, it really wouldn't be that big of a deal if you didn't know 'the reason'. I'm pretty much known as the kind of guy that would do it, give 'the reason' a helping hand, I mean. Don't get me wrong. Please. It'd break my mama's heart if she heard you heard it from me the wrong way. Allow me though, to explain something else first. I'm a local hero around these parts; I hate to brag, but you _could _say I'm a big factor of York High's very own Sharks' impressive defense. That's what people have been saying, anyway. "DJ's the name, football's my game." If someone needed an introduction from me, that would be it. Mama's real proud of me. I can tell by the way she cooks me up a whole menu of my favorites - anything to do with beef - every night after a big game. But I think I'm getting a little sidetracked here. What's funny is that, despite the fact I play serious football, I've got the cushiest heart everybody knows. And maybe that's true. I wouldn't hurt a fly unless my life depended on it. Wouldn't lay one tough finger on another human being unless he was talking trash about my ma. That's my trick. She told me herself, for every guy I need to tackle, imagine that very guy was giving her a problem, and it was my responsibility to pay him back respectively. And let's just say, that trick's worked. Plenty.

Point is. I'm kind of like a pillow. ... disguised as ... a brick wall. Get it?

When I first discovered the vital importance of 'the reason', it was bright and early, and a Saturday morning. I was planning on heading over to corner-store to pick up a few things, when suddenly I heard dispute a couple houses down, abrupting the placidity of my usually peaceful neighbourhood. I guess it really wasn't any of my business, but I just couldn't resist - it sounded bad; it really did. Despite my second instinct not to, I followed it - continuing down the sidewalk, going in the total opposite direction I'd meant to go originally. There, I listened. I couldn't make most of it out, but I felt a guilty pang in my chest deciding to shrug it off and forget it ever happened. But what was there, right then, that a guy like me could possibly do? So I did just that, what I hadn't wanted to in the first place. Shrug it off, switch route. Although I couldn't forget it if I tried. I heard the arguments more regularly after that. Times I was passing by, times I felt like I needed some quality time to myself. For some reason, I'd grown to become so drawn to that noise, that pattern. Suddenly, just sticking around during every disturbance became a habit.

They lasted through my entire summer. The fights I kept hearing, I mean.

Finally, came the day I was getting of the public bus, my backpack slumped over one shoulder, at the very moment another friction had come to an end. This time was different though. I watched from a questionable distance as a figure marched out of the house, slamming the door hard behind them. It was right then I noticed, whoever walked out of that residence turned to be some girl recognized from school. Now, if you're wondering why I hadn't realized that beforehand, us two being neighbours and all, it's simply because I'd never seen her enter or leave that place before, and whoever lived there with her, most likely the same person(s) who argued with her on a daily basis (a male's voice, however, was present at all times). Still. There she was. Someone I walked by in the hallway occasionally, someone I'd heard some not-so-nice things about throughout my highschool years. She hurried down her front steps and down the street, her back turned towards me. I guess that was sort of a blessing in disguise, because I'd stared by accident until she completely disappeared from my view. Funny thing is, hypnotized as I was, I nearly called out her name, thankfully stopping myself in time.

And so, the days dragged on. Whenever I laid in bed as evenings came to a close, I pictured her merely three houses away, maybe in the kitchen, bickering with who I presumed was her father. That's exactly when I decided I could no longer sit around and do nothing anymore. Obviously it was killing her. How could it not? I knew by heart if it were up to my mama, she'd look me in the eye and want me to do something. Starting that night, I began to device a plan to help. Eventually I realized I wouldn't be able to do that alone, and it would be a difficult task trying to find someone else willing. So I thought a little outside the box, and I guess that's what brought me here again, back at the guidance counselor's for the second time that week.

"DJ?" I looked up, my thoughts fading abruptly.

Moments later, I was up from my seat, trailing behind Mrs. Gallagher, the only woman willing to help, as we walked into her office. She was quick to accept - she happened to enjoy a good challenge and anyway, she'd heard further issues and complains from several other students.

Oh! I almost forgot to mention. You know that whole 'reason' I was talking about earlier?

Well. For starters, her name is Evalyn* Sanders.

* * *

_Desperate times call for desperate measures  
-_** Unknown

* * *

**

**Heather (Friday; 2:17pm; somewhere along the West Wing of York High)**

Hips locked into a steady rhythm, I strutted down the corridor with my books held over my chest, my heels banging against the linoleum floor. My ensemble of the day consisted of a fine white blouse and a deep navy pencil skirt that came down just above my knees. I'd accessorized with a red high-waist belt and hoops dangling from my ears, and perhaps I'd drenched myself in a bit too much perfume. It didn't matter. I figured due to my circumstances, I was allowed to over-exaggerate myself a little for the day. As much as I'd detested hearing it before, there was no chance today I could take "no" for an answer. My rep was at stake, and everything else would go right down along with it, if things were to come to that. No way in hell I was about to let that happen.

If the next bit confuses you, allow me to explain to you one day. For now, please bare with this madness.

Finally. After approximately three full days of non-stop planning, observing, and excessive pints of _Häagen-Daz _(hell disguised as heaven in my opinion, judging by the insane two pounds I'd gained that week)_, _I was ready to take my plan into action. The timing couldn't have been more perfect, and I had loser-with-his-face-in-chicken-noodle-soup right where I wanted him. ... okay. I did a double-take around the place. And then a third. Perhaps if fate were up to me, I would've picked a much cleaner hallway to waste my time in, but that surprisingly didn't matter to me much then. _He _was there, just like I'd expected him to be after learning and memorizing his entire schedule, usual routines included. And better yet, there was literally no other kid in sight to witness this act of wrong-doing. I'll admit, sure, part of my plan involved the attention, but right now, it wasn't necessary. And I'd really hate to do more than was necessary.

So I made my way over to him, who was currently bent over an old water fountain. I cringed. This school needeed serious hygienic revamping, without a doubt. A good whole minute of just plain standing there passed, and this kid still hadn't noticed my endowing presence.

Slight desperation gathered itself within me - I coughed.

It took another while, again to my distaste, but eventually he gazed up. "Can I help you, eh?"

I tried my best to contain my sly grin. "Actually. I was just wondering if you knew the way to Mr. Birk's room? I'm supposed to be delivering a message from my English teacher. I've been wandering these hallways for _hours_, I can't seem to find it anywhere." Obviously it was all a lie. For one thing, this was my free period, and for another, I knew this place like the back of my hands. I silently prayed he'd buy it, or at least be willing enough to go along with it.

He looked skeptic at first, but he threw in a voluntary shrug soon after. "Sh'oor."

His accent had its quirks, and was definitely not the kind people would rave about if it was featured in movies. I knew I couldn't be too surprised though. Over the last couple days, I'd done my research on this particular loser, asking around, learning these facts for basics: He was raised in the prairies in Edmonton, Alberta. This would be his first year of experience of an actual school, ever. And if this had yet to be said, this much was definite through what he had let on as of yet: He'd never hooked up with a girl before.

I followed him as he led me in the right direction, thirteen doors down to precisely what I had asked for - Mr. Birk's room, I was positive. He stopped just a couple feet from the desired location, deciding to simply stand there and look at me.

"Well, here we are, eh. I guess."

"Thanks a bunch ... Eugene, was it?"

"Ezekiel." Of course I'd known that. Still, he was slow to correct, as if he wasn't so sure himself.

With a smirk, I'd wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling slightly of his scrawny frame. If he couldn't fully take in my intoxicating scent by this point, I didn't have a clue what else it'd take. "Right, I knew that." His own expression seemed new to him - a mixture of pure shock and obvious discomfort. I didn't stop there, however. I bowed my head down a tad (I had a good half an inch on him, in heels), brushing my freshly-glossed lips across his rough cheek. "I'll see you around."

"Y-yeah ... s-see you around ... "

I released him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, satisfied. But like I said, don't take all this the wrong way. It wasn't as if I actually _liked _him, or am planning to within the rest of this century. For the love of _Prada_, I promise everything will make perfect sense as the rest of my story falls into place. And so, I strutted down the corridor, hips locked into a steady rhythm, walking out of his life just for the meantime, just as I had walked in it in the first place. I didn't need to look back to know for sure he was watching me leave, and that for certain, he wouldn't forget this meeting for an absolute long time.

Perhaps not until my plan began to truly unfold, but I could already hear the hospitality I'd grown accustomed ringing in my ears. Soon, I'd be back on top, where I rightfully belonged.

Welcome back, Heather Storm, welcome back.

* * *

_'Cause you'll get the blame  
You're part of her game  
Get's one up - it's such a shame (shame, shame, oooh)_  
**- Confusion Girl, Frankmusik

* * *

**

**Ezekiel (Friday; 2:20pm; Cloud Nine) **

I remember things at the farm, where everything was at peace and my only cousin Lucy and I were both laying flat on the grass, taking in the beautiful clear blue sky.

She was older than I was, still sweet as she always had been, and that cool April day she was telling me about this boy she met who lived a few ranches down the road, who'd kissed her. "I think I'm in love, Zeke."

"Is that so?" I replied, mostly because I wasn't sure of what else to say.

There were stars in her eyes. "Mhmmm."

"Well, eh. How's it feel?"

"Like the best feeling in the world." She closed her eyes, the stars no longer visible to me, and the two of us just continued to lay there, dozing off into our seperate tranquilities. The memory ended there.

It was rude to stare, but as I watched her leave - the girl with the long dark hair and perfume, I mean - I thought about it; whispered the next eight words:

"I'd never been kissed by a girl before."

Just my luck; there was no possible way she could've heard me say it.

* * *

**There you have it, my favorite and probably longest chapter to write by far. **

**Hopefully you guys enjoyed it too? Be sure to let me know! It always means alot. :)**

*** Incase you might've noticed, I'll be changing Eva's full name from "Evelyn" to "Evalyn", but it's not too big a deal.**

**- Trish**


	5. Friday Night, & I'm Feeling Fine

**I stumbled upon this the other day, and suddenly it got me thinking. I had so much planned for this fic, and just because I was so busy, I left these stories with nothing but loose ends and possibilities. _Unfinished_. Suddenly I was inspired all over again. I know, I know. In regards to the community here, and the show, so much has changed. Fresh is planning to air the ... what? Fourth season now? To be honest, I haven't kept up with the show (I stopped midway through TDA), but I'm sure everyone's favorite pairings have changed, especially with the new characters they've introduced. Still, I hope you guys enjoy!**

_**thisobsessioniscontagious**_; **Ohgosh, I love you. Your reviews never fail to make me smile**! **It's been a crazy long time, but I do hope you'll still get to read this, somehow :)**

**_DiamondsInTheRough01_; Thank you so much! It definitely means a lot. :)  
**

**Disclaimer: Much credit goes to Fresh Animation. I don't own anything but these ideas.**

* * *

_"Tell the truth and run."_  
**- Yugoslavian Proverb, The World's Best Bathroom Book**

* * *

**Owen (Friday, 2:25, Location: ...well, take a guess.)  
**  
... _plop_.

"Aaaaaaaah. That's better."

* * *

_"Pour a little gas, spark up your lighter"_  
- **Higher, J. Cole**

* * *

**Duncan (Friday, 3:10pm, Room 318)**

The moment I entered the detention room, late as usual, I knew right off the bat that something was different.

It didn't smell any different. The place still reaked of soda and juvenile puke, just the way I liked it. The room itself didn't seem like it had changed - the walls were still a dull grey colour, and the number of windows were minimal, because they knew a bunch of badasses like me would try breaking out at least a couple of times. I felt hot suddenly, unable to describe what it was, exactly. How could I put it? It was the _atmosphere_. The moment I walked in, I heard the _whispering_. Don't get me wrong. Without a doubt, I was used to that - people exchanging looks whenever I passed them by, their skin crawling whenever I shot them as much as a look. But for some reason, I could tell whatever this commotion was wasn't about me. So what _was_ it about? Surprises didn't come around these parts so much anymore. Hell, if I recall, the most exciting thing that happened at our school within the past week had to be Eva Sanders, who threw some dork across the cafeteria after he asked if her Sloppy Joes' was any good. And despite how amusing I find that she probably misinterpreted what the kid was really trying to ask, even _that_ wasn't anything we hadn't seen before.

If only I'd known then. The reason for all of this was just steps behind me, already chuckling to himself.

To my left, I spotted a couple guys I knew. We all nodded, acknowledging eachother's presence. They were the same guys that I'd pulled my last stunt with - the very stunt that got me into detention to begin with, surprisingly only for the second time this week. Together we (about eight guys in total) had scribbled some not-so-nice things all over the school, just for fun. When we learned it had been Mr. Dolimore, some annoying bald oldie who was responsible for ratting us out, we stole his wallet. I smiled, loving nothing more than being plain badass and some good old payback.

Lazily, I slipped into one of the empty seats by the back, my arms crossing themselves in the process. The door slammed, causing the hair on the back of everyone's necks to spring up. I winced, realizing the man (who looked to be in his late twenties) was smiling. He had shiny black hair, reaching past his ears and even down to his neck. His teeth were so white I wouldn't be surprised if he'd blinded people with them before. He spun around, scribbling his name - _Mr. Maclean _- on the board before turning back to the class, pounding his palms onto the desk in front of him. All the idiots in the front row nearly jumped out of their seats.

"Questions?" He asked. _Weird place to start_, I couldn't help but think.

One hand shot up. I looked, seeing it belonged to Marvin Samuels, who was shaking. I rolled my eyes. Heaven knows what a kid like him was doing in detention in the first place. "C-can I go to the bathroom?"

Maclean stared Marvin straight in the eye, making him tremble even more. Then once again, he smiled his million-dollar smile. "No. Are there any other questions?"

It wasn't his response. It was the way he said it. The way he didn't even flinch at any given moment. There was just something about his tone ... something about this man, in particular. He definitely wasn't the usual detention monitor we got. I didn't have to think it over twice. In a blink, my hand flew up.

He caught my glare. For the first time in my life, I had trouble detecting fear in the other man's eyes. "Yes, Duncan?"

I flinched at discovery that he already knew my name. "So when do we get out of here again?"

"Huh. That's a good question. Let me check my papers-" Maclean stopped as soon as he realized I was no longer twenty feet away from him, and just a hand's distance away instead, already feeling like I'd "had it". I stared him down straight in the eye, taking the three inches I had on him as a huge advantage. He, on the hand, failed to recognize this fact. Without leaving my gaze, he grabbed a stack of documents from behind him. A hideous smirk grew on his face as he scanned over them. I felt my stomach come to abrupt drop. "I think you might wanna sit down for this, Duncan."

I snarled, but obeyed despite myself. Suddenly I was slumped back into my old seat, waiting for his next move.

"You know why you're all here, right?" He began. No one said a word. He continued. "Because you've all been called here for a reason. This isn't regular detention."

The rest of the class was completely silent as they heard the words that followed: "Just for the really bad ones."

Once again, I inwardly questioned Samuels' presence in this room, but the thought broke within a flash. All because the next thing I knew, I noticed a piece of paper sitting in front of me, which I was sure hadn't been there before. Someone had just placed it, but for reasons I couldn't explain, I felt like someone had slammed it. I picked it up with both my hands, the first words I read on it hitting me smack-dab in the face.

_Community service._

From the corner of my eye, I could've sworn Maclean was smiling.

* * *

_Today, my feet were really cold _  
_and I thought how it would be cool if they made little sweaters for your feet. _  
_Then I remembered they are called socks. MLIA_  
**- m y l i f e i s a v e r a g e . c o m**

* * *

**Harold (Friday, 4:30, Johnny Rocket's)**

"I'm _telling_ you, she's a mad woman, eh."

I considered this, taking a long sip of my jumbo chocolate milkshake. Ezekiel sat across from me, making odd hand gestures. I shrugged. "Maybe you're just overreacting. Sure, girls like her don't usually go for guys like-"

"Like me! Exactly, eh! I may not know much about the city, but I think I've been 'round here long enough to know _that_!" He waved his arms up in exasperation.

I took another sip of my milkshake, this time twice as long as the last. Then I opened my mouth to speak. "Uh."

"She kissed me! Harold, she _kissed_ me!" Zeke snapped, his eyes huge. "That isn't suppose' to happen to guys like me 'til we're like, _fifty_!"

I finished off my milkshake. Without warning, I choked on the last sip. After a good minute, I wiped the corners of my lips with my wrist. "_Idiots_."

The boy who had been home-schooled for practically his whole life, frowned. "What does "idiots" mean?" he asked, the same way he'd asked what milkshakes and boobs were within the past twenty minutes. I didn't get a chance to answer, not that I'd felt like it. A large figure had appeared next to our booth, a notepad in one hand. She was African-American, with messy ebony-black hair. Her name-tag read 'Leshawna'. Also, she was wearing a chicken costume.

"Can I get you boys anything?"

I stared. Ezekiel remain enclosed in his own little world, still trying to figure out what Heather Storm wanted to do with the likes of _him_ and the meaning of "idiots" while he was at it. He was beginning to get frustrated.

"I'll take that as a 'no'," the waitress decided finally, unamused. Without further ado, she walked over to the next table.

From my seat, I had a perfect view of the diner's doors. Just as I realized this, they were pushed open, and I recognized the girl who sat next to me in History. Her chestnut-brown hair hung loose a couple inches below her shoulders, and she was dressed all proper, not like she belonged at a burger joint at all. What was her name again? Carina? Carrie? ... Courtney, was it? This diner was the last place I'd expected to run into her, that was for sure.

I watched as she strutted to the front counter. Ezekiel went on and on just like he had earlier, but this time I didn't even bother listening. In about five minutes, I found her sitting alone three tables away, unwrapping what looked to be the 'Rocket Double'.

"So I was thinking, maybe I should confront her, eh? Ask her 'what's up', or however it is you city folk say it-"

I heard his words, but they felt miles away, at the very back of my head. My attention, as of then, was focused on _her_, with the gigantic burger held in her perfectly-manicured fingers. She opened her mouth wide, then sunk her teeth into it.

It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

* * *

_If I was a simple man,_  
_Would we still walk hand in hand?  
- _**Sometimes, City and Colour**

* * *

**Leshawna (Friday, 10:57pm, Johnny Rocket's)**

The diner was closing early today. Summer was almost over, and as we neared autumn, the hours we remained open were doing some falling themselves.

So there I was. Cleaning off the remainder of the tables after my boss, Hatchet had barked orders at me to close up the place before he'd dozed off in the kitchen. Not that your home-girl was complaining, of course. I liked the guy a 'heck of a lot better when he was asleep. I scratched my back. It itched from the dusty feathers of that damn chicken suit.

All of a sudden, I heard a knock on the entrance doors. Beth, the other waitress, had probably already locked them before she left, which explained why the person hadn't just waltzed in by now. But if my assumptions were correct, the person behind that door knew more than a handful of ways (some that could put him in prison) to get himself into a building. Shaking my head with a smile, I made my way over, opening the doors for the infamous Duncan Hughes. My best friend.

"We're closed," I told him, fighting the urge to simply burst out laughing.

He walked in anyway. "Well then, I'm afraid that's too bad."

Good old white boy. He invited himself over (and rudely so) to sit at one of the booths I had already cleaned off. I rolled my eyes, but I would've been surprised if he'd done differently. I crept back into the kitchen, trying my best not to wake up the Hatchet. Quickly, I stirred together two hot cocoas then returned back to Duncan, offering him one. "I thought you were comin' around four today, sugar."

He stared down at his hot chocolate, which he held in his hands, for warmth, but he didn't drink it right away. "I had a long day."

I thought of all the nights we'd been like this. Just the two of us, the loudmouth black girl and the delinquent, both revealing our other, more delicate side we only did to eachother.

"Tell me all about it," I spoke softly, all ears.

* * *

_Baby, you've got to be more discerning_  
_I've never known what's good for me_  
**- Modern Love, Bloc Party**

* * *

**Gwen (Friday, 11:04pm, the Rimando residence)**

It was the same old story. Once upon a time, head met pillow.

There I was, isolated within the four walls of my own, dark bedroom. Given it was a Friday night, it wasn't a bad guess that 90% of the rest of the teenage population was out partying. Given the time, I figured most of them were on the twentieth shot by now. Meanwhile, I lay all by lonesome underneath the comfort of my own sheets. It'd been a long week. Sleep should've sounded like the best thing in the world, right then.

Only, I couldn't sleep.

I tossed. I turned. I shut my eyes as tightly as I could. I took a pill. I took another. By 11:08, I decided something was clearly wrong with me.

Then I heard it. The music. This had to be that six billionth time. The strumming of that guitar, the sound of his voice ... and dare I mention, his impeccable good taste in song selection.

I cringed. _Damn insomnia_.

It didn't take much for the events of Tuesday night to come rushing back into my thoughts. This time, they focused more on him. _Him, him, him_. His welcoming green eyes. The way his jet black hair did a flip as he reached the climax of his song. The fact he made his way over to me once he was finished, to introduce himself. His smile, oh God, _his smile_. How he casually mentioned he was going to perform again in three nights ...

Three nights from Tuesday. So that meant not Wednesday night, not Thursday night, not- I stopped there.

Friday night. _Sweet Jesus, he's going to perform again tonight_.

In a half-second, I was out of bed.

_I'm losing precious sleep over this._

One jacket sleeve was pulled over one arm, and a set of keys dangled from my mouth. I slammed the door behind me, a painstaking realization following soon afterwards.

_I'm losing precious sleep over _a boy_._

* * *

Chimes sounded as I swung the cafe doors open. Several heads turned as I came in, but only for a moment. Those sets of eyes usually didn't linger.

The Catfish Cafe wasn't packed, but somehow it still managed to seem full of life. With some strange feeling of relief, I spotted a few familiar faces, most notably a large teenager with tousled blond hair. He was one of the guys working the counter the last time I'd been here, and tonight he still was. I watched him skeptically for a moment, raised eyebrow and all. In his hand was a coconut, and as long as my eyes weren't deceiving me, he appeared to be having a very human conversation with it. _Strange kid_. I hated to act like the kind of shallow person I'd typically hate, and judge, but some cases just couldn't be helped.

I scanned the room some more. I couldn't find him anywhere, nonetheless in centre stage. Where he should've been, singing with his acoustic guitar, a girl seemingly in her mid-twenties stood, reciting a haiku. _Whatever_, I sucked up my disappointment, and was just about to leave when-

"You again." I froze, forcing myself to turn around. There he was, the very person I'd been looking for just seconds ago. He offered a grin, then he opened his mouth to speak again. "I was looking for you tonight."

_I was kind of looking for you too_, I wanted to say, but those words didn't come out. Instead, these did: "You scared the hell out of me."

"Did I, now?"

In an equally embarrassing manner, I nodded. "Where'd you come from? I could've sworn you already left."

Fortunately failing to notice, he kept talking. "I was out by the alley.." (As he said this, he made a thoughtful gesture through one of the windows.) "... one of my little motorcycle's pieces jerked off - no big deal - so I was trying to put it back together. Then I saw you." He walked further into the cafe, his gaze still on me. Gesturing over to a nearby table, he made me sit. Once I obeyed, he took the seat across me. Then he called out that same guy at the counter - _Owen_, he'd yelled out - ordering two grande lattes. Eventually they came around.

We engaged in some small talk until finally, it hit me. "I'm sorry I missed your performance tonight," I managed to say, all sincere. It surprised me. Usually I had to make an effort, when I even _bothered_ making an effort.

"It's alright," said he, again, with a genuine smile. "It wasn't anything special anyways."

I stared down, trying to focus more on my latte and less on some _boy_.

"Can I ask you a question now?" I looked back up, into a place where his green eyes met my my dark ones.

"Yes?" There was this gut feeling inside of me that knew I'd get flustered at whatever it was he was about to ask me.

He cocked his head to the side.

I swallowed.

"Do you always wear your pajamas when you go out on Friday nights?" I hastily looked back down, taking it my cotton striped pants and my worn 'Daffy Duck' T-shirt. My mind unfortunately played back to the events of Tuesday night, where, coincidentally, I was also significantly undressed.

_Damn it_.

* * *

About two hours later, I found myself back in bed. Only this time, I was finally able to catch some sleep.

Around quarter to two, however, my eyes suddenly opened once more. I sat up, glancing first at the clock on the wall, then out at the window, which I'd purposely left open. The sky was pitch dark, save for the tiny half-moon I found in a corner, unleashing a dull, yet brilliant light. There was a party taking place down the street, and vaguely, I could hear them playing some Bloc Party. It was a song I'd recognized. I gave in a sigh.

_I still don't even know his name_.

* * *

**It just sunk in how much I've really missed writing.**

**I want to hear what you guys think! Be sure to let me know. :)**


	6. Psychos, Phonebooks, & False Impressions

**_Insert Spiffy Name Here_; Thankyouthankyouthankyou! Well I already sent you a reply so everything else I planned to say to you has already been said, pretty much. :)**

**_Intrigued Soul_; Words cannot express how shocked I was to see your review. I remember going on your profile about a week ago, so I figured you died or something. xD But it made me really happy! I definitely missed you, and don't worry, your review did just fine. :)**

**_Sakura Blossom Storm_; Ooh, a new reader! Nice to meet you, and I have to say, your review made me smile like such an idiot on several occassions, haha. Thank you!**

**Note: Just thought I'd let you guys know: The lyrics I use for some of the "breaks" are from songs that helped me write corresponding scenes in this story. If they were part of a movie, these songs are the soundtrack; songs I can see possibly being played in the background.  
**

**Disclaimer: TDI (c) Fresh Animation.**

* * *

_The scars of your love; they leave me breathless_  
_ I can't help feeling, we could have had it all_  
**- Rolling in the Deep, Adele**

* * *

******Katie (Saturday, 11:27am, 42 Fairbanks Avenue)**

"_Out_."

Outside, the rain poured.

I watched as my mother's sharp finger pointed itself towards the door. I continued to watch, waiting for her to drop it. I waited for her to say she'd changed her mind.

She didn't.

Instead, she opened her big mouth to speak once again, making me wish I'd brought earplugs for at least the sixth time that morning. "I expected so much better from you, Katherine. All this time, I thought I raised you right, you know? When I let you go to out on Friday nights, I didn't _once_ worry about you going around like some dirty _slut_ getting knocked up by random boys she met at bars. Because I would think, '_Oh, my sweet Katherine would _never_ get into things like that. My sweet Katherine would _never_ disobey me like that_-' "

The only thing on my mind then was my name "Katherine" and how much I hated it.

"You _sicken_ me," spat my mother. I grabbed my duffel bags, already making my way to the door.

She kept going.

"You're the biggest disgrace this family's ever known, Katherine." I rested my fingers around the door knob. "I hope you always remember that."

I spun around, looking this mad woman straight in the eye.

"My name is _Katie_," I said, and for a very long time, those would be the very last words she'd ever hear me say.

I swung the door, and walked right out. And I left, just like that.

* * *

_"Are you okay?" When I heard the sobs coming from the ladies' room at the walk-in clinic, I immediately went to investigate. I had a pretty good idea of who the person crying behind the bathroom stall was._

_"Yes," replied she. Yet after just a second, she wept out loud once more. I couldn't blame her. As much as I hated to admit it, I wanted to cry too._

_I thought it over for a second. "Do you want to come out now?" I asked._

_Between sniffles, I heard an exasperated, "Okay."_

_Soon she exited from her stall, and just like I'd suspected, she turned out to be the same girl I'd met in the waiting room just an hour before._

_"Pigtails," she said._

_"Sherlock." I smiled, pulling this girl I barely knew into a warm bear hug. That was all she needed. And as much as I hated to admit it, that was exactly what I needed right then, too. "Everything is going to be okay."_

_"Everything is going to be okay," I repeated, this time, for my own re-assurance._

* * *

The phone-book I carried in my left arm was damp, now. On the page it was currently turned to, I had an address circled three times. I looked up at the house in front of me. _73 Colombo Crescent_. "This must be the place," I announced to no one in particular, then proceeded up the front steps. Taking a deep breath, I rang the doorbell.

To my relief, someone answered the door. It was a woman, with dark hair and some wrinkles. "Can I help you?"

"Is this the Furtado residence?" I questioned.

She nodded. There was an unusual sad way about her. Still, she tried her best to come off as pleasant. "Yes, yes it is."

Suddenly I wondered if this wasn't such the greatest idea after all. _Oh well_, I thought, knowing I didn't have too many options at the moment. "Does a 'Sadie' live in this house?"

"My daughter, yes. Would you like to see her?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'll go fetch her then. She's probably just having breakfast ..."

With that, she disappeared back into the house, yelling out something in Portuguese, I presumed. Eventually Sherlock appeared at her doorstep, garbed in her pink pajamas with a stunned look on her face.

"I know this probably looks crazy right now," I began, referring to me standing in the rain with duffel bags and a phone-book in hand, "Actually, I _know_ this looks crazy right now. I mean I barely know you, yet here I am, about to ask for a place to stay for a couple days ..." I trailed off, realizing I'd barely explained myself. So bluntly, I added: "I just got kicked out."

"Surprisingly," she replied, with a little smirk, "This doesn't seem so crazy to me at all."

* * *

_"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. "_  
**- Margaret Wolfe Hungerford  
**

* * *

**Beth (Saturday, 3pm; Johnny Rocket's)**

Ah, another day at the diner.

Arriving for my first weekend shift, I breathed in the wonderful smell of juicy meat and greasy potato wedges. I walked over to cashier number uno, taking the place of my fellow co-worker, Clarence. "I'll take the next customer!" I declared, a wide genuine grin plastered over my face. Soon, standing across from me was an old man, balded other then for his side-burns.

"Hi, my name is Beth!" I greeted in my most cheerful-est tone. I pointed to my name-tag, which coincidentally read, _'Hi, my name is Beth_'. "_See_."

I was quick to ignore the signs of non-amusement shown on the man's face and took his order.

Suddenly I jumped, hearing the sound of a door slamming open. I turned to see Leshawna Jones, the other busgirl, emerged from one of the washrooms. She used one hand to plug her nose, and the other to hold a dirty toilet plunger. "Girl, you do _not_ wanna go in there," she gagged, returning to the 'Staff Only' area in desperate need of normal-smelling air.

"JONES!" This time we both jumped, at the blaring sound of Mr. Hatchet's voice. "I'm 'fraid ya missed a spot!"

Leshawna groaned, retrieving her plunger from beside her. She marched back - this time, with caution. _Poor thing_, I couldn't help but think, but along with everyone else in the room, I was just glad it wasn't me.

The diner doors opened, and three young women entered. They were all tall and curvy, and wore cropped-tops that showed off their matching belly-button piercings. I suddenly felt uncomfortable in my complete-opposite-of-theirs skin.

They strutted over to the front counter. I swallowed. "H-hi," I stuttered, rather unfortunately. "How may I help you girls?"

The three could-be models quickly scanned the menu, then turned to eachother, frowning. The one on the left spoke up. "I don't know. Stacy and Barbara, what do you think?"

The girl in the middle turned back to me. "Do you sell salads?"

I nodded. I'd never tried our salads before. "Yes, would you like the chicken caesar salad, the chicken club salad, or the garden club salad?"

They looked at one another, speaking in hushed voices. After about two minutes, the one on the right stepped up, closed to the counter. "We're trying to avoid meat. We'll have the garden salad. Three of those."

"Right away." I hollered back at Clarence, to prepare them. At all costs, I tried my best to avoid any other eye contact with these girls. Eventually their food came around, and I sent them away with their tray in a hurry. I decided to take a break.

I walked over to the room located farthest back in the restaurant. In the beginning, this was originally just the room where workers discarded their jackets and bags and etc, but over the years the staff had also turned it into "the break-room". There was a small flat-screen in there now, as well as a mini-fridge and a big table with a deck of cards in the middle, ready to be played whenever. I grabbed a Red Bull from the fridge, and sat myself in one of the chairs. I sunk into it.

"You alright, sugar?" Leshawna's voice entered the room. Over the past few weeks, in spite of our differences, we'd grown quite used to eachother's company. "You look a 'lil pale if you ask me."

I laughed. Whatever had bothered me before was honestly so dumb. "Yeah, I'm alright."

"Good. Now, I was wonderin' ... who's _this_ looker over here?" I looked up. She was gesturing over to the large 20 x 15 portrait on the wall that I _might_ have sneakily hung myself just a little earlier ... it truly was a gorgeous, _gorgeous_ picture.

"Justin," I answered from Cloud Nine. "Gorgeous, _gorgeous_ Justin ..."

* * *

_"We are all born mad."_  
-** Samuel Beckett**

* * *

**Noah (Sunday, 5:20pm; the janitor's closet)**

"... Galanter. _Justin_, Galanter."

According to Owen, some fat lard I met approximately twenty minutes ago, this man was pretty great. The name was spoken as though this "Justin Galanter" character was the greatest thing since sliced bread. "If you, my friend, are to have any competition at this year's election, hands down, he would be it."

I crossed my arms, all the while trying to recall how I ended up in the janitor's closet again in the first place.

Oh.

That's right.

Some psycho (Izzy) decided it would be okay to drag me out of my house (I don't reminisce ever informing her of my address) and sneak us into the school (clearly unnecessary) for a ("necessary") meeting in this closet (which she dubbed our new "headquarters"). Also, she brought in a new "member" for my "party", who she introduced as a bus boy working at the Catfish Cafe who she often made out with. I for one thinks he sounds very reliable.

Crazy girl nudged me. "Listen up, Noah-boy! Owen knows what he's talking about."

"Clearly."

"That's the spirit! You should feel _honored_ he came all the way out here to share some of his wisdom."

_You probably bribed him_. "I'm thrilled."

"... looks, looks, _and_ looks," said Owen, his eyes sparkling. "This man's got it all."

Surprisingly, this didn't worry me so much. "Right," I responded. "Anyone else in particular I might want to watch out for?"

The large Canadian considered this for a moment. "Hmm. Well, I guess you could count that new girl, Courtney Evans as a threat. But I wouldn't worry about that one too much." He chuckled at his own words for a bit. "She's a _girl_."

Izzy joined him. "Yeah, haha! Girls suck!"

I worry about the future of humanity sometimes.

* * *

_Carrots help us see much better in the dark_  
_Don't talk to girls, they'll break your heart _  
**- Kill the Director, The Wombats**

* * *

**Courtney (Monday, 10:05am; room 215)**

"Alright, class," Mr. Maurati, my biology teacher, clasped his hands together and turned towards the class. "It may or may not be fairly obvious, but the weekend's officially over. I apologize, Rebecca Black."

The class stared, wishing he'd take that horrible "Friday" reference back.

"... anyways." He coughed, regaining his stance. "I figured a good way to start this week would be by introducing a new little project. In pairs, you will each be responsible in completing a full written report on the zoology of the other person. I'm talking about any unique behaviors, diets, mating facts, etcetera, etcetera ..."

"So basically, what you're saying is ... we're supposed to write about our partner as if they were some wild animal?" asked the skinny redhead sitting to my right. I briefly thought back to last Thursday, when we shared a confusing moment over his pencil on the floor.

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

The redhead paused for a moment, then offered a really peculiar smile. "Awesome."

I raised my hand. "Sir, I may."

"_Oui_, Mademoiselle Evans?" I cringed at his irrelevant use of French, a language I usually favored.

"Might I remind you, that this is the year we are-" Thinking it over, I scanned the room, seeing several losers pick their noses. Quickly, I corrected myself. "That _many_ of us will be graduating, starting to apply to a variety of colleges and universities, and preparing for our futures. By no means am I trying to judge your way of teaching, sir, but wouldn't you agree that this project sounds a little ..._ light_?"

Maurati grinned. "That is a very good question, Courtney. Yes, this project may sound pretty elementary to you now, but take my word for it, by the end of this assignment, I guarantee you will all see you got a lot out of it. Now! Normally I'd let you choose your own partners, but this time I thought I'd mix things up just a tad ..."

I rolled my eyes. _This is such a waste of a class. Everyone in this room is crazy, _especially_ this poor excuse of a teacher! I knew I should've signed up for Physics instead ..._

"In this hat, are pieces of paper with each and every one of your names in it," he continued. "One by one, I will have you draw a name out of the hat. If by chance you pick out a name that already has a partner, you will simply discard of it and draw out another." Maurati began down the first row of students. Once partners were made, he jotted them down on the board.

By the time the hat reached me, there were only several pieces of paper in it remaining. I gave in a sigh, and reached into the hat, hoping for the best, but at the same time not really giving much of a crap. I unrolled the sheet of paper, my partner unveiling to be ...

_Harold_

_The redhead?_ I guessed. I turned to where I knew he'd be, sitting at the desk on my right side.

He was one of those losers picking their noses.

* * *

_Now I'm falling asleep,_  
_And she's calling a cab_  
_While he's having a smoke_  
_And she's taking a drag_  
_Now they're going to bed_  
_Now my stomach is sick_  
_And it's all in my head,_  
_But she's touching his chest, now_  
_He takes off her dress, now_  
_Let me go_  
- **Mr. Brightside, The Killers **

* * *

**Cody (Monday, 2:34pm; York High)**

As far as Mondays go, this one whizzed past a heck of a lot faster than I expected. I could've sworn it had been just five minutes ago when I walked into Physics last period, taking my usual seat somewhere in the middle. In a blink, the class was over. The school bell rang, and within ten seconds flat, the entire room was cleared.

I headed down the nearest stairwell. On my way to my locker, I made a quick pit-stop by the guidance office to retrieve a copy of this week's "The Voice", our local student paper.

Soon enough, I reached Locker no. 1398 - mine - and cracked it open in a record-breaking time of one and a half seconds. I grinned, instantly having a group of people in mind to share the great news with ... "_This just in_," I'd say, my head held high, "_Guess who just broke his already-impressive locker-lock-opening record? Yeah, you got it! _This_ man_."

In all my glory, I slammed my locker door, then swiftly swung one strap of my pack over my shoulder. Sometime in the midst of my _very_ smooth stride down the hallway, however, I unfortunately tripped flat on my face. The reason for this being a turquoise-haired _goddess_ standing just several feet away from me ... and because somebody might've stuck their leg out on purpose. But mostly the 'being possibly blinded by a goddess in front of me' part.

I yanked myself up, trying my hardest to regain my posture and really, _really_ hoping she didn't see that. I looked up.

_There she is_.

For the six-thousand, two-hundred, twenty-fifth time in my life, I made my way over to the beautiful Gwendolyn Rimando, hoping this would be the time that I change her mind.

As she removed yet another book from her locker, I came up beside her. I kept a slight distance - a lesson learned - as last time I had come too close she'd thoughtfully kicked me in the balls. "Hi Gwen."

She didn't look up. "Cody."

"Do you need some help carrying those books? They look pretty heavy."

"It's alright, I've got it."

"No, no. I insist, Gwen. It'd be my pleasure." I flashed her a smile. I didn't get so much as a look back.

"Trust me on this one, I'm _okay_-"

Carelessly, all _too_ carelessly, I reached for her books anyway. I don't remember so clearly after that. She must've resisted, or something, because all of a sudden, the books went flying all across the floor. My heart sunk as I heard her heavy breathing, her instinct not to completely blow up in front of me even when I knew that was exactly what she wanted.

Without a word, she bent down, retrieving all of them.

"I'm sorry," I said, because I can't keep my mouth shut. And because I can't control my actions either, my hand found its way to her shoulder. Surprisingly, she didn't swipe it away like I thought she would. Then again, she hadn't acknowledged my touch either.

She stood. "I told you I could carry them all myself."

"I know, I know. I wasn't thinking-"

Then she did something that, in all of my other six-thousand two-hundred twenty-four times, she had never done before. Gwen kept dead silent for awhile, as if she was deep in thought. It was almost haunting, the look on her face, one that I fell short to describe. I wondered, in that moment, if this was the break I'd been waiting for all this time.

"I'm going to tell you something, okay? And it's only because we both know, despite the way I've been acting around you these past couple of years, that you deserve better." I wasn't sure where this was going. I didn't believe her when she stated that last part. She concluded this bit with, "And you really should've noticed this by now, but I can't give you that."

I nodded, feeling my stomach twist into a knot. I was trying to understand, but I didn't have a clue what it was I was supposed to. The words came out on their own: "So what makes this time different then, huh? Why can't you just simply put me down like you normally do? You know how I feel about you. How I've _always_ felt about you, and you know I can't stop."

Our eyes met. In her dark orbs, I failed to see my own reflecting in them. What I saw instead was sad and endless, like these unrequited feelings I carried for some dumb girl who'd never feel them back.

She snapped.

"I GET IT, CODY! Don't you see that? You don't think this is hard on me too? Having to deal with you constantly on my back _every_, _single_, _freaking,_ _day_?" Her words felt like daggers.

From the corner of my eye, I spotted two freshmen looking, obviously curious. I caught their gaze, and they left in a hurry. Gwen and I were completely alone now.

"Just tell me," I insisted, traces of desperation and coldness in my voice.

Her temporary, sympathetic phase had taken the back exit. "Fine. I'm kind of seeing someone, _happy_?"

_Happy? Is she _really_ making a joke out of this shit?_

"Who's the lucky guy?" I managed to say, somehow. She didn't answer, and I didn't question why. Instead, I took in her dyed turquoise hair (that I swear to God, no one could pull off but her), her nice lips, her flawless complexion. Even when she was breaking my heart, she was beautiful.

I stared down at my sneakers. "I'm happy for you. Whoever he is ... man's really lucky."

She nodded. Pulling away, she clutched her books to her chest even tighter and began down the hallway in the opposite direction. Eventually, she was gone.

I'd lost her.

The school was fairly empty now. I managed to keep myself together long enough to move my shaky legs away from school grounds. On the walk home though, I realized I hadn't lost her after all. _Because you can't lose what was never yours to begin with, _I whispered to the sky, and my words blew away with the wind.

* * *

For some reason, the second I reached my front porch, I retrieved my copy of "The Voice" from my pack. I flipped through the pages, oblivious to what exactly it was that I was looking for, but knowing I was looking for something.

Something caught my eye on page 4.

It was the advice column, in which troubled students often consulted in someone who went under the alias of "Sally". With it, came the stupidest idea.

_But it's worth the shot. _Somehow, along with the thought, I was able to come up with a little, sad smile._  
_

I then proceeded to plan some of it out in my head:

"_Dear Sally..._"

* * *

**Read and review!  
**


	7. Helping Hands, Heartaches, & Hot Dates

**_Intrigued Soul_; Your comment on how Courtney's biology teacher reminded you so much of your own made me so jealous. ): I'd kill for a teacher like that! Anyways, thank-you x infinity, and hopefully this update came quickly enough for you!**

**Disclaimer: Whether or not this comes as a shocker, I still do not own TDI.**

* * *

_"Even if you think the flame has died,__ there's at least one lyric that'll hit that last hot spot,__ and then  
you'll find yourself as fucked as you were__ the day you lied and said you never wanted to see her again."_  
** — John Mayer **

* * *

**Lindsay (Tuesday, 7:30am; Room 116)**

"Roxie! Come quick!"

"For crying out _loud_, muffin, it's _Rosie_."

... oops.

Nonetheless, she (head of the student paper ... I think) made her way over anyways. She observed the way my forehead was all scrunched up (hopefully she didn't notice the tiny blemishes, I really, _really_ needed a facial) and the stack of papers in my hands. "Look," I persisted, showing her something on the first page, then flipping through the next few. "'Hungry All The Time' ... 'Smelly and Sweaty' ... 'Batman'? Maybe it's just me, Ronnie, but I don't think these are real people ..."

She shook her head, and gave in a sigh. "Oh, _honey_."

"They _are_ real, aren't they?" I frowned, realizing my supposed "discovery" might just not be one after all. "But who would even do such a thing? Come up with all these made-up problems and send them in like a joke?"

"It's the names they make up, silly." I watched as the corners of her lips curved into a little smile. "Behind them, are just ordinary people living ordinary lives who have ordinary problems ... well. _Most_ of the time, anyway."

I smiled too, finally being able to make sense of things. "Okay. I'll get to work now!"

"Atta' girl!" Satisfied, she returned to her desk at the other end of the room.

So there I was. Up and early, sitting in the "Voice" (I think that's what it's called ...) HQ about an hour before classes would start. Normally meetings would take place during lunch or after school, but since I was new, Rosa _insisted_ I come in early for a couple days just so I could get a better hang of things. I paused suddenly, cocking my hand a little to the side. _How did I get here again?_

I pondered this for maybe two seconds, then shrugged. _Oh well_.

As I rummaged through the stack of papers, one of them caught my eye. I set it apart from the rest, squinting at the words on it because they seemed too blurry when they were further away.

_Dear Sally_, it read. ... wait, my name's not Sally ...

... oh. Riiiiiight.

I went on, scanning the words that followed after the greeting.

_So I'm kind of having this dilemma. Let's start off with this girl I've been head-over-sneakers for since the beginning of time, and then throw in this new mystery man, who's somehow managed to capture her heart after my three years of trying to do so. Needless to say, I'm kind of a mess. Help a guy out? Thanks._

_Sincerely, Heartbroken _

_P.S. Being that the chick goes to this school and all, I'd like it best to keep this matter on the down low ... is that okay? Instead of publishing this in next week's paper, you can email me at a n o n y m o u s 3 2 1 h o t m a i l . c o m (separate email to the one I normally use)._

It was inspiration that came over me.

In an instant, I pulled up 'Sally's email, and began a new draft.

_Dear Heartbroken, _

_I totally know what you mean. Normally when I'm sad I tend to make out with random guys in the janitor's closet on the second floor. I get you're a dude yourself and all ... but maybe you can try that? Hope it helps!_

_XOXO Sally_

And with that, I clicked 'send'.

* * *

Lunch came around, and I found myself at the usual table in the cafeteria, sitting across from Heather. It was a familiar scene.

"Why are you smiling?" I asked her, only because it was starting to freak me out. Just last week she was PMS-ing at every single person and object in her way (totally uncalled for, bee-tee-dubz) and now? Now, she was cheerfully picking at her salad, softly humming a_ Killers_ tune.

"I'm not smiling," she said, smiling.

"You're tooooootally smiling," I protested, nodding rapidly. Eventually my head started to hurt, so I stopped.

Heather rolled her eyes as she wiped the sides of her mouth with a napkin. "Whatever."

An idea came up, and I quickly spun around - seeing what exactly what I was looking for before I returned my focus back to her - and gasped. "It's because of that dummy, isn't it? The one with the funny hat?"

"That's an insult to dummies actually," she laughed. It was not, in any way, genuine or however you'd call it. Her arms crossed. "But yeah, what about him?"

To this, I spoke quieter, unsure of myself. "I still can't figure out what it is you want from him ... but you've got plans. _Big_ plans."

For the briefest moment, I could've sworn I saw _fire_ blazing in her eyes. "You know what, Lindsay, I think for the first time ever, you might just be right." She stood, lifting her tray. "Let's get out of here. This cafeteria's starting to smell a little _too_ much of pathetic ex-boyfriends."

From the corner of my eye, I spotted Lucas Hodgson, talking amongst his other jock friends. The poor thing wouldn't see what was coming for him, whatever it was. But this much I _did_ know for sure - in terms of payback, Heather Storm _always_ kept her promises.

And as all these thoughts were just circling around my head, that's when it happened.

One minute I was simply following Heather, and the next?

I ran into someone.

And just my luck, it wasn't just any 'someone'.

Very slowly, I gazed up, finding my eyes locking into those of Tyler West.

_Speaking of ex-boyfriends ..._

"Sorry," I mumbled, before scurrying out of that crowded place. Because I wanted to catch up with Heather. Not because all I wanted was to just get away.

"Wait-" I thought I heard him say briefly, but I kept on going, because my stomach had twisted itself into a knot and my heart hurt a lot.

_Sorry_, I wanted to say, a million times again and again. This time, for more than just bumping into him in the cafeteria.

* * *

_Relax yourself, girl,_  
_Please settle down_  
**- Electric Relaxation, A Tribe Called Quest**

* * *

**Ezekiel (Tuesday, 2:38pm; within York High campus)**

Now, it wasn't like I was looking for her, eh. In fact, she was the very last thing on my mind as I exited the school that day, breathing in the fresh September air. Yet there she was, lookin' all nice with her white scarf and leather jacket, leaning up against the first brick wall I would see. I noticed the way she would glance at her watch a lot, and how her face - lit up? I don't know - when she saw me walk out. It was almost as if she was ... waiting for me.

"Hey handsome!" Heather called out, and instantly I remembered something good ol' Harold had said the other day - about making sure I didn't fall for just anything that came out of her mouth - but naturally I chose to ignore it. I mean, hey, maybe I _was_ lookin' pretty good that day. Was that so hard to believe?

I made my way over, with all intention to keep as "cool" as possible. The classic head-nod would do the trick. I saw some guy do it in a movie once, and it looked _real_ cool. " 'Sup, eh."

"Oh, _nothing_," she replied, all casual. Because that's all this was. Just some casual, everyday conversation between two people. Nothing more, yeah? "Just trying to figure out which dress I'm wearing tomorrow night..."

"What's happening tomorrow night?"

"Don't be silly!" She played off, as if my question was a joke. Along with that, was a flip of the hand, a weird habit I noticed about half of the girls at school also had. _City folk these days_. "You're taking me out, remember?"

"I'm taking you where?"

"Out for dinner?"

Before the words "I am?" could clumsily slip out of my mouth, she added once again (in a sliiiiiiightly harsher tone than I was used to, if I do say so myself), "_Remember_?"

I did not, by any means, remember. You'd _think_ a guy wouldn't just forget that he had a date with one of the hottest chicks at school.

"I, I-" Heather didn't exactly give me a chance to explain. The next thing I knew, the chick burst out _crying_. _Crying_. Can you believe it?

"It's just ... it's o-only been a w-week since my ex-boyfriend Lucas d-d-d-d ..." Her face buried in her hands, she practically screamed the next word, as if she was having trouble simply getting it out there. ".. _dumped_ me! Then _you_ came along and I ... I just thought-"

I couldn't take it anymore! I'm not sure what came over me, but all of a sudden my hands were around her wrists, yanking them from her eyes. "I-I'm so so'orry, eh!" I declared, if only to stop the weeping. A little white lie here and there couldn't hurt me, right? "I was just playing around, of course I didn't forget. So tomorrow night?"

It was amazing how fast she stopped crying. Equally amazing, was how soon she started smiling again. But I have to say, when she pulled me in by the neck and began jumping up and down and ... _squealing_? That, was just creepy. "My address," she whispered into my ear as she slipped something into my pocket, sending chills down my spine, for reasons I couldn't understand yet. "Be sure to pick me up at seven o'clock, _sharp_."

Then as she left, she was all giggly again, reminding me once again why I just couldn't figure out the female population for the life of me.

It really only sunk in during the walk home ...

What just happened? Taking _her_ out for _dinner_? The most _I_ knew about dinner was sitting at the table, waiting on my ma to serve me a good hearty meal of porridge or potato stew. I may not be the brightest guy around, but there was one thing I did know, and that was that a guy like me couldn't _possibly_ pull this off.

The bulb lit up about a second later. _Unless ..._

* * *

_I'm sick of all the insincere  
So I'm gonna give all my secrets away_  
**- Secrets, One Republic**

* * *

**Eva (Tuesday, 8:17pm; 29 Freshwater Drive)**

Inhaling a deep breath, I very slowly crept down the stairs, taking them one at a time. It was insane, feeling this way. Like a stranger in my own house.

The place was still a mess. I didn't know why this was always such a surprise. It'd taken a lot of beating, this house. Over the past few years, whenever anyone was angry, things had been thrown around, leaving large dents in the wall. And they remained, almost like ..._ reminders_. The walls played a big part here. They held onto echoes of our voices, all the arguments. I wouldn't admit anything to anyone, but they made me feel trapped, even.

I reached the bottom of the stairs, cringing at the shard of broken glass I'd stepped on. _Whatever_, I thought, and kept going. I always did.

Man, I was starving. I opened the fridge, finding unfinished take-out boxes from the nearby _Manchu Wok_ and a half-carton of milk. Closing it, I walked over to the cupboards instead, finding cans of tomato sauce and processed beef. I made a mental note to restock on groceries sometime that week. For the meantime, the take-out leftovers had to do.

And so, I made my way back to the fridge, pulling one of the boxed cartons - it turned out to be pork entrée - out. As I closed the fridge, my eyes hovered over the one thing I'd forgotten to avoid. It was a note from my father, which he'd stuck onto the refrigerator door (I assumed) right before he disappeared about a week ago. I tried not to think much of it when he left. So what if he'd taken off? It wasn't the first time. I took care of myself without his help anyway, even when he was around, so his absence wasn't going to make much of a difference.

_Eva_, the note read.

_I'll be at Bobby's for awhile. Not sure when I'm coming back. I've left money on the table._

That was my Pops alright. Straight to the point, leaving no room for apologies.

At the bottom, he'd written: _P.S. Take care of the house for me, okay?_

As if he'd even left anything to take care of. _Hilarious_.

I finished my dinner, leaving its remainders on the table. It didn't take long after that for the place to seem darker; for the walls to start speaking to me again. I left the kitchen, finding myself face-to-face with the mirror in the front foyer. Surprisingly, it wasn't shattered yet, unlike every other broken thing in this damn house.

Below my chin, I saw the bruise. It was still a little red, even thought it wasn't exactly fresh anymore.

_He didn't mean to hit you_, insisted the wall, grey in colour. It repeated itself, over and over and over. _He didn't mean to-_

"Says you," I muttered under my breath ... to the wall.

God, I needed to get out of there.

* * *

_"If you can't feed a hundred people, then feed just one."_  
**- Mother Teresa**

* * *

**DJ (Tuesday, 8:40pm; Freshwater Drive)**

Two people came to mind as I considered my current situation.

The first was Geoff, who, when he heard about it, kind of flipped out. "Don't do it man! You have no idea what you're getting yourself into man!"

And the second, of course, was Lory Gallagher, the local guidance counselor at York High. She was a woman known for a lot of things. Mostly though, she was known for her crazy ideas.

Which would explain why I was just sitting in my _Nissan_ (birthday gift from my ma) in front of the Sanders' house that night. Naturally, it wasn't something I wanted to do, but Lory was tough, giving her all into talking me into it. And let's be honest, I've got this slight problem with saying 'no'. According to her, Eva _had_ to leave home sooner or later. And sure enough, there she was, coming out just before nine. I couldn't help but notice she'd forgotten to bring a jacket.

What seemed to be drizzle just minutes ago, turned into rain, pounding hard onto the streets. It was time. I had to do it. I had to help her.

Without a second thought, I rolled down my window. The moment I could smell the salty humid air, I called out, "Yo Eva! Over here!"

I guess she didn't see me, because she continued down the street, her clothes dampening from the rain. Quickly, I turned on my engine and followed her, keeping a close (but not _too_ close) distance behind. "Eva!"

Eventually she turned around, mostly I think, because she was pissed. But that was the last of my concerns then.

"What do you want from me?" She questioned, bitterly. These would be the first words I'd ever hear her say to me.

"For you to get in," I answered, bravely. Still, Eva didn't look impressed.

"And how do I know," she shot back. "That you aren't a kidnapper or rapist of some kind, or something?"

"Come _on_! Do I _look_ like a rapist to you?"

She simply glared at me for awhile, before finally giving in. "Fine. Only because it's cold."

Soon, she climbed in to the passenger's seat, and I transitioned into a slow drive, driving for the sake of driving, without a specific destination in mind. Even though we weren't really talking yet, I smiled. It couldn't be helped - finally, I was getting somewhere.

"Hungry?" I asked, as we began to near a chain of small restaurants.

"Just ate."

"You sure? 'Cause I heard about this amazing Greek just down the-"

"Yeah, and you know what? I'm still not hungry." And that was the end of that.

After awhile, I started getting nervous. What exactly was I planning on getting out of this, again? When it really came down to it, I had no clue where I was supposed to start. And so, mostly in panic, I did one of the worst things a guy could possibly do to break the ice in any given problematic situation. I asked her, "So ... what's up?"

From the rear-view mirror, I caught her passing me a look that could kill. So ... maybe that wasn't such a great idea.

"Is_ this_ what this whole thing's about? You, who I've never even spoken to before in my _life_, decide to randomly pick me up just so you can ask me, 'What's up'?"

Ohhhhhhh ... shit. "No! I mean ... yeah, that's part of it, but there's more to that, okay? I know you've been going through a lot lately, and so I spoke to Mrs. Galla-"

"I knew it!" she blurted out in exasperation, interrupting what I was trying to say. "Whatever even _gave_ you the idea to talk to that mad woman in the first place escapes me, but-"

"I was worried, okay? Man, can't you just accept the fact people are trying to_ help_ you already?"

Apparently that was it for her. She went silent for awhile, before going on to order, "Stop the car."

"We're at least two kilometres away from our neighbourhood by now. No way."

"_Stop the car_," she repeated, in a tone of voice I couldn't say no to. I gave in a sigh, stepping on the brake pedal. The _Sentra_ began to slow down, before eventually coming to a halt. She got out of her seat without another word. It was around then I noticed the bruise on her neck, which I couldn't believe I hadn't seen before, being that it was so noticeable. Something about it bothered me a lot, but before I got the chance to ask her about it, she was gone. And it was just my luck, because that would be the only thing on my mind later that night.

Yet even as she slammed the door (without turning back in the slightest), I knew, at that moment, that this wouldn't be the last meeting I'd have with Eva Sanders.

I sunk further into my seat. Then I drove off into the fog, picking up right where I left off. Geoff was right. I _did_ have no idea what I was getting myself into.

* * *

**None of you probably care, but I just got back from Buffalo today, and I felt like writing. :) I had a really good time, lots of good deals, lots of good food, and lots of good quality time with my fam. And now it's Easter! I hope everyone had a good one!**

**Anyways, I'd love to hear what you guys think! R&R. :)**


	8. Really? Really? REALLY?

**_CITPrincess101_; To be honest I wasn't originally planning on developing DxC until later on, but I decided to throw in a little here :) I hope you don't mind if I used a similar penname for Courtney's (you'll see later on) by the way! I thought it was cute.  
**

**_Amstar10198_; Sorry for the wait. But here's your update, hope you enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: Total Drama Series (c) Fresh Animation**

* * *

_"Attention York High Grizzlies!_

_I am pleased to announce that we now have the list of candidates for this year's elections! Running for student  
body president, we have Noah Reeves, Courtney Evans, and last but not least, Justin McHottie! -squeals- Campaign week will  
begin next Monday, and speeches will take sometime the following week. We'll keep you posted! Until then, have a great day, guys!_"

* * *

**Justin (Wednesday, 7am; inside his beautiful head)**

Hi.

My name is Justin Galanter. Although most people probably know me by my new name, 'Justin McHottie'. Maybe you've heard of me, maybe you have a half-nude poster of me taped on the inside of your closet. Maybe you have a couple of my used tissues stashed away in your locker, and I'm pretty sure some of you have tried breaking into my villa on 47 Fifth Avenue. But at the very least, I'm sure most of you are very, very familiar with me. And if not, that's okay. Kind of impossible, but okay.

Well it may be hard to believe (considering the kind of life I've been so conveniently blessed with), but since lately I've been feeling a little ... bored. Sure things are going great for me as usual, but all of a sudden ... I've started to feel like I'm stuck in this continuous routine, and I just had to get sick of that eventually. I, Justin (McHottie) Galanter, needed a change.

But what?

What was it that I could possibly do, that would be both new, exciting, and perhaps even _add_ to the effortless success I had today?

I was tanning poolside, sipping on a Piña Colada last Friday when it hit me.

Running for student body president! Of course!

I recalled another student - Noah Reeves, was it? - muttering to himself about it all last week. The guy wouldn't shut up about it, honestly!

But it was perfect.

So, so, incredibly _perfect_.

It was child's play to get one of my father's firms to entirely organize a campaign for me, and I already had the 'babe' vote, hands down. In a bag.

I probably wouldn't even have to give a speech.

I'd simply stare at the audience, flash my million-dollar smile, and watch as they'd swoon and bow before me. Maybe somewhere in the mix, I'd even throw in something crazy like, "Vote for Justin".

Heck, I could even just get some guy to say that for me. Have him also say a couple wise words (less _is_ more), then hand the spotlight back to me. I'd then lean into the microphone, wink at the lovely ladies, then announce the follow six words: "Justin Galanter approves of this message."

Bingo.

* * *

**11:20am (Free period)**

_prairieboy808_ (Ezekiel) has entered this chatroom_._

_yourworstnightmare_ (Eva) has entered this chatroom.

_the_codemeister_ (Cody) has entered this chatroom.

_wanna-beth200_(Beth) has entered this chatroom.

_pretty_in_pink_ (Sadie) has entered this chatroom.

_CITprincess22_ (Courtney) has entered this chatroom.

_justyourtypicalsurfergirl_ (Bridgette) has entered this chatroom.

_blondie15_ (Lindsay) has entered this chatroom.

'lil_shawna (Leshawna) has entered this chartroom.

_ilovestickybuns_ (Owen) has entered this chatroom.

_hi!im_e-scope_ (Izzy) has barged into this chatroom.

* * *

**justyourtypicalsurfergirl says:** Well, the list of candidates is finally up. I know elections aren't actually starting until another week or so, but I'm curious. Who are you guys planning on voting for?

**yourworstnightmare says:** People actually care about this garbage? Really?

**blondie15 says**: Ooooh, definitely Johnny! He's soooooo cute. Like I can't even describe how cute he is, and_ believe me_, I know 'cute'.

**the_codemeister says:** Johnny? Who's Johnny?

**CITprincess22 says:** I'm sorry, do you mean _Justin_?

**pretty_in_pink says:** Omigosh, I love him! He's definitely got my vote!

**wanna-beth200 says:** Isn't he just yummy?

**ilovestickybuns says:** YES

**ilovestickybuns says:** YES

**ilovestickybuns says:** YES

**ilovestickybuns says:** YES

**ilovestickybuns says:** YES

**yourworstnightmare says:** I just checked your anon profile. It says here you're supposed to be a guy?

**ilovestickybuns says:** ... now this is awkward

**justyourtypicalsurfergirl says:** Hmm, I don't know who I'm voting for yet. They all seem like pretty worthy competitors to me.

**'lil_shawna says:** I agree. That Noah seems a tad bit _stuck-up_ though.

**pretty_in_pink says:** Oh, I know! During History the other day, I asked if I could share his textbook since I left mine in my locker, and all he did was do this weird hair-flip thing. It was so random!

**CITprincess22 says:** I for one believe Courtney Evans would make a marvelous president.

**'lil_shawna says:** Really? A good buddy of mine told me she has a pole stuck up her behind or somethin'.

**CITprincess22 says:** What loser told you that? I hear she's an incredible leader, an admirable team player, and not to mention, a Counselor-In-Training. She's just so great. I would vote for Courtney.

**blonde15 says:** Oh, I know her! I think she's the girl in my Calculus class who got jealous of my boobs.

**the_codemeister says:** Can we see?

**'lil_shawna says:** Huh. Ain't it a funny coincidence that you're boosting up this CIT chick and your screenname just so happens to be 'CITprincess22'?

**CITprincess22 says:** ... I have no comment

**hi!im_e-scope says:** VOTE FOR NOAH

**hi!im_e-scope says:** OR

**hi!im_e-scope says:** ELSE

**hi!im_e-scope says:** I

**hi!im_e-scope says:** WILL

**hi!im_e-scope says:** EAT

**hi!im_e-scope says:** YOU!11!11111111!111!1!1!1!1111!11!1111!1!111!11!1!1

**hi!im_e-scope says:** Haha just kidding!

**hi!im_escope says:** Maybe

_hi!im_escope has been banned from this chatroom for inappropriate behavior._

**yourwors****nightmare says: **Thank the Lord.

**justyourtypicalsurfergirl says: **This is going to be one interesting election, that's for sure.

**prairieboy808 says:** What's an election?

**blondie15 says**: Oh, I think it's when a guy's birdie gets all hard and stuff.

**'lil_shawna says:** Honey, I don't think he meant 'erection'.

**blondie15 says:** ... oh.

* * *

**Duncan (Wednesday; 4pm; York High campus)**

Community service sucked.

Where was the element of surprise in that, though?

There I was, picking up mounds of litter all over campus, all the while dragging around this ginormous garbage bag of _shit_. And did I mention I was doing this _after_ school hours? Shit! I mean sure I screwed up (_what's new, folks?_), but did I deserve _this_? _Really_?

"_Really_, Maclean?" I repeated for at least the hundredth time that afternoon. The first was when he informed that each of us detention losers were required to do twenty hours around the school. I yelled out the second when he clarified that these twenty hours were_ in addition_ to what we were already expected to accomplish (40 hours of volunteering at soup kitchens, stupid day camps, etc to graduate), meaning our work here wouldn't count towards that at all. The third, fourth, and fifth escaped my mouth because the guy felt like it was necessary to add, "And if that's what you were originally thinking ... then that sucks."

The reason for the sixth was because he let everyone else off early, save for me and this crazy redhead chick. God knows what _she_ did to get here.

I'm not the guy who usually cleans up after another guy's business. Hence, the rest of the "_really_?"s should be pretty much self-explanatory.

"Just ten minutes to go!" He yelled back at me. While I was stuffing trash into this ginormous bag of garbage, he was kicked back on a hammock, all relaxed. Marvin Samuels (he wasn't forced to stay, but for some completely loco reason he chose to stick around) stood close to him, ready to attend to his every need. Maclean wants a Big Mac? Yeah, no problem. Maclean wants a foot rub? Sure, why not? Samuels was shaking.

I had to admit. This new detention monitor? He was a dirty, manipulative genius.

"Yeah?" I replied. "Kiss my ass."

"Ooh ooh!" Crazy redhead chick piped up. "Can I?"

She quickly dropped her own bag and garbage grabber, then skidded over until she was merely two dangerous feet away from me. My palm, outstretched against her cheek, kept her from going any farther.

"You know," Maclean brought up, out of the blue. Clearly he hadn't been paying attention to the last thing I'd said at all. "I was a budding reality TV show host, once."

"We know, we know," I said, rolling my eyes. "You've told us this story a million times. And then the show got cancelled due to some bogus petition, yadiyadiya-"

He frowned. "Huh. How'd you know?"

"_Really_, Maclean?"

"Omigosh, I love reality TV!" said Crazy. "I had this dream once that I was on this show taking place on some island, and we had to jump off this _thousand_ foot cliff into a pit of sharks! OH OH it was so awesome, like right after I went I just wanted to go AGAIN AND AGAIN!"

"Interesting," said the once, reality TV host. That annoying grin had returned to his face. "How about this; when I find my way back into the television business and create my very own show, I'll let you be one of my first lucky contestants. All you have to do is remain as insane as you are, as that, my friend, would make for killer ratings! What do you say, Izzy?"

Izzy. So that was Crazy's name.

"Deal!" agreed Izzy, who then proceeded to randomly start jumping up and down. ... let me correct that; randomly start jumping up and down _while sinking her fingernails into my forearm_. "OH OH but you _have_ to let Duncan be on your show too! Him and I would make an excellent team! Ooooooh, kind of like-"

I yanked my arm away from her grasp. "Yeah ... I'll pass."

* * *

Eventually, he let me go.

"Tomorrow we'll be cleaning the communal washrooms!" Maclean yelled from behind me. "So come early!"

This guy was just too much.

I stomped all the way to my locker, emptied out a couple of things, then slammed it with my backpack slinging over one shoulder. I was making my way down the hall when I saw Courtney Evans just walking out of the library. Suddenly my day just got a whole lot better.

"Princess!" I called out, flashing my trademark smirk. "Wait up!"

She did. Probably 'cause she's secretly in love me. "It's _Courtney_."

"How could I forget? Beautiful name; _Courtney_."

"Yeah? I'd say I like yours too, but I must've forgotten it. Along with my dignity, seeing as I'm actually wasting precious time talking to _you_."

I grinned. What a sweet-talker. "Duncan Hughes. It's a name people don't usually forget, but I guess there's a first time for everything ..."

"Now if you excuse me," she scoffed, turning her back to me. "I've got more important things to attend to."

"...wanna make out first?"

Let's just say I wasn't expecting her to do what she did next. She twirled back around, offered a smile (I guess you could call it that), and said, "I just printed out these campaign posters in the copy room. I know election week doesn't start until next Monday, but I was kind of hoping on getting a head-start. Post these up for me? _Then_, I might consider being a little more _friendly_ with you ..." And so she stuffed a stack of papers into my hands, and walked away.

What a downer.

Reluctantly, I slammed the first poster onto a random wall. I found a black pen in my pocket, then used it to scribble a french mustache on her precious face.

I tossed the rest of the posters into the nearest trash-bin.

_Women these days._

* * *

_One, _  
_I'm biting my tongue_**  
- I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You, Black Kids**  
(Twelves Remix)

* * *

**Heather (Wednesday, 6:55pm; 754 Respond Avenue)**

The girl in the mirror was wearing a red cocktail dress and black pumps. She had long, perfectly straight, raven hair that nearly reached her waist, perfect teeth, and sharp grey-brown eyes. She was stunning. She was supposed to be stunning, anyway. Why couldn't she feel the same way she looked?

Tearing my eyes away from my reflection, I glanced over at the clock instead. _7 o'clock sharp_, I'd told the kid. Just to test him. If Zeke came any earlier than that, he was clearly a little too eager, which, was just tacky. If he arrived any later than 7:10, clearly he wasn't as interested as I wanted him to be. Which, considering both of our circumstances, would be highly embarrassing on my part.

My doorbell rang at 7:03. Was I relieved? _Please_.

This began phase two of my genius plan.

I opened the door, putting on a nice act. Pretend to be interested, cheesy smile - that kind of act.

"Hi," he said. He had on an old suit he probably borrowed from his pa, and bothered to wear some kind of cologne. His hair was slicked back. The prairie boy had exceeded my standards, from looking completely hideous to actually being kind of okay to look at._ Bravo_.

"Hi," I mirrored his words, not really knowing what else to say. I noticed he didn't bring flowers.

"I was originally gonna bring you flowers," he explained, as if he could read my thoughts. "But my buddy Harold told me you were allergic to pretty things-"

_He told him _what_?_

His eyes widened. "I MEAN! He told me I didn't wanna distract from your beauty, eh."

It was an okay save. Not like I was expecting much, anyway. I simply played it off, despite myself. "Oh, don't worry about it! I'm sure it was just a little misunderstanding."

"Really, eh?"

"Really. Now, where did you book our reservations?"

Prairie boy beamed. "It's a surprise. Follow me."

He led me outside, gesturing over to a deathtrap parked by the curb. He referred to it as a truck. "It's my uncle's. He told me it just wasn't right for a lady to have to walk on a first date."

The strangest feeling came with those words. This was all just so ... innocent.

* * *

We arrived in front of _Frankie Tomatto's_, in a part of town I had never been to before. It was strange how he knew about this place - me, having lived here nearly my whole life, and him, having just moved in.

Loser walked. I followed.

"To be honest, I couldn't afford much here in the beginning, eh," he said, leading us into an ... alleyway? "But my cousin, who works here, said he could snag us some free food. No one really passes through this back exit, he said. And he'll serve us personally ... here."

Then I understood. He was talking about this little table, decorated with a simple white tablecloth, an old radio, and a candlelight. It was cheap, but as much as I hated to admit it - also kind of nice.

I smirked. So far, my plan was falling perfectly into place.

* * *

_If you ever find yourself stuck in the middle of the sea_  
_ I'll sail the world to find you_  
**- Count On Me, Bruno Mars**

* * *

**Geoff (Wednesday, 8:20pm; Lake Shore)**

"I honestly have no idea what I was thinking."

Ah, sailing.

Always loved sailing.

"I mean, cheerleading?" That was my girlfriend, sitting across from me on deck, wrapped in a blanket. "Let's be real here. I'm like the clumsiest person I know!"

"Just on land," I corrected.

"And tryouts today? Don't even get me started. I was falling over myself everywhere! I nearly toppled the entire pyramid!"

"But you _did_ say your cartwheels were pretty impressive. And your back-flips."

Bridgette sighed. "I don't know. Am I crazy, Geoff?"

"Does my bum look nice today, Bridge?"

"No?"

"You're lying."

"No," she giggled. "No, I'm not."

"Well, then there you go. Yes, you're crazy."

* * *

I met Bridgette the summer before my sophomore year.

Me and my bud DJ were kicking it back on the beach. Our freshmen year had ended just a week before, and since then we'd been partying nonstop. Football. That's how DJ and I got to know eachother. We'd become teammates both on and off the field, and that summer we swore one day we'd win a championship together. To this day, he's my best friend. But anyway. Back to my story.

Later that day, we and a bunch of other guys decided to play some good 'ol frisbee in the water. At one point the disc was going extra fast - miles and miles per hour - and silly me, I still went for it. I guess you could call it fate or something when it whacked me smack in the head, and sent me out cold. Suddenly I was drowning. The guys went looking, but it makes sense that they didn't find me - I was out pretty far at sea, then.

She was a lifeguard that summer.

I don't remember much, besides what she and DJ told me afterwards. But apparently she'd spotted a tiny speck sink down from her binoculars, and without a second thought, she swam out to save me immediately. Along with help, Bridgette carried me back to the shore and laid me there on the sand so she could perform CPR. She was the first person I saw when I snapped out of unconsciousness.

Beach-blonde hair, mesmerizing green eyes ...

It's pretty cheesy, I'll admit, to say I fell in love with her the instant I first laid my eyes on her.

But I did.

* * *

A cool breeze withered past.

I found my place - next to her - and snuggled close. I followed her gaze up to the night sky, filled with thousands of stars.

"The York High cheerleading squad would be lucky to have you," I told her, without a single trace of doubt.

She smiled. "You think so?"

"Never been more sure of anything in my life."

I reached for my left pocket. In it, was something small and obscure and square. But as right as the moment felt, it could wait.

Bridgette rested her head on my shoulder, and my arm found its way around her waist.

"Happy eighteen months, Geoff."

"You too, Bridge. You too."

* * *

**:) I'll never get tired of those two.**

**- Hopefully the 'chatroom' segment turned out okay! I know using proper grammar in there wasn't exactly realistic, but I thought it'd get to messy if I didn't.**

- **Heather's doings may seem really confusing right now, but just wait 'til her plan unfolds in future chapters.**

- **For those of you who don't know, _Frankie Tomatto's_ is this all-you-can-eat Italian restaurant.**

**- About the _Total Drama Island_ references I kept throwing into Duncan's POV ... I just had to.**

**Reviews are loved! I really want to know what you guys think, so be sure to let me know. :)  
**


	9. Surprise, Surprise

**_Sakura Blossom Storm_: I love your reviews! They make me legitimately smile at my computer screen. And as for Bridgette/Geoff thing, I guess you'll just have to keep reading and see. ;)**

**_likesunsetsbaby_: Thank you! Hope this update didn't take too long for you :)**

**Author's Notes: I said right in the beginning that some characters won't necessarily be themselves. These characters, if haven't already guessed, are Sadie, Katie, and Tyler. If they seem OOC, it is completely intentional, as the current situations they are put in have taken them beyond the characters we're used to. Everyone else should (hopefully) seem completely in character. **

**Disclaimer: Total Drama (c) Fresh Animation.**

* * *

_See, you had a lot of moments that didn't last forever_  
_Now you in the corner tryna to put it together_  
**- How To Love, Lil Wayne**

* * *

**Sadie (Wednesday, 11:20pm; 73 Colombo Crescent)**

"SADIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

It's funny how things turn out sometimes. How you could be casually chowing down on hot waffles one morning, when suddenly you hear the doorbell ring. How you could answer the front door, not expecting much, then find an unexpected guest standing on your doorstep. How you could be expecting this un-ordinary guest to ask for something much more ordinary, like an egg, but instead, ask for a place to stay. And of course, there must be something unusual about being in the middle of brushing your teeth, yet being okay with some stranger hollering your name from down the hall.

Only, this girl wasn't such a stranger anymore.

"I'll be there in a second!" I mumble, sounding silly with toothpaste still in my mouth. I rinsed it out, then made my way back to my room, finding her plopped on the guest-bed my mom and I had set up.

"Sadie," she said once she saw me. Once upon a time, we'd referred to eachother as "Sherlock" and "Pigtails". Those names had been replaced with our real ones, but Pigtails still came up every once in awhile.

I couldn't help but notice the pained look on her face. "Katie?"

"I feel sick."

"Oh no. Again? There's some ginger ale in the fridge. Maybe it'll help?"

"Maybe." Katie kicked back on her bed, pulling pink sheets over her. Her pigtails had been let loose, and her messy black hair fanned over her pillow. "Or maybe I just need to rest."

Her eyes closed slowly, and I took that as a cue to shut the lights. After crawling into my own bed, I found myself staring at the ceiling for much longer than necessary. Giving in a sigh, I rolled over to my other side, the side facing her.

"Goodnight, Katie."

There was no answer.

* * *

_"It's positive."_

_The words felt vulgar coming out of my mouth. Wrong._

_Daddy remained silent, as per usual. He'd become a lot quieter and distant over the years, so it wasn't much of a surprise when he stood from the dinner table and walked out of the room. But that didn't mean it hurt any less._

_My mom on the other hand, had grown stronger. But still sad. There was just something about her that always seemed so damn sad. _

_She stood too._

_But she didn't leave. She crept closer to me instead, and wrapped her arms around me as I wept harder than I ever had. No words. Just comfort. _

_There were three plates of lasagna left on the table, all barely touched._

* * *

I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of shuffling. I heard a door slam, a couple unpleasant noises, then the toilet flush.

Katie returned to her bed about ten minutes later.

"Sadie, are you awake?" she whispered.

"Yeah, I can't sleep."

"Me neither. On the brightside, I feel a lot better now."

"Lucky you. Now _I'm_ the one feeling sick."

It was dark, but I could've sworn I saw her smiling. "Well there's some ginger ale in the fridge if you-"

"Very funny."

* * *

_Today, I wore a dinosaur suit and rode my bike around my neighborhood for a few hours _  
_singing "Secret Agent Man" and "Nom Nom Nom Nom" over and over. I got about a billion strange looks, _  
_3 rounds of applause, 5 high fives (or at least attempts) and one hot guy saw me, told me to wait a minute, then _  
_came out wearing his own dinosaur suit and joined me. Best. Day. Ever. MLIA_  
**- m y l i f e i s a v e r a g e . c o m **

* * *

**DJ (Thursday, 12pm; the cafeteria)**

Sloppy Joes. Surprisingly enough, it was the caf's special for only the third time this week.

Red tray in my hands, I scanned the room 'til I found Geoff and them waving at me from our usual table. I smiled and made my way over, always grateful to find my friends amidst a crowd.

Geoff leaned over the table, taking a good whiff of the meal in front of me. He beamed. "Sloppy Joes! Excellent choice, if I do say so myself."

I laughed. "It was either that or the casserole."

"Ah. Good call."

Just like always, the cafeteria was filled with loud chatter. It seemed like there was always something going on, whether it be a scrap taking place in the corner, or the occasional teenage breakdown. I was never the biggest fan of drama, but okay, it did keep things around here interesting.

"Hey, are you gonna finish that?" Naturally, that was Owen. Two-hundred ninety-six pounds, totally gullible, and by far one of the best guys I know. He makes great defense on our football team ... if you know what I mean.

"Go ahead," I replied, pushing my tray towards him. "I wasn't that hungry anyways."

His face lit up, and in approximately three seconds he'd already had the whole mess gobbled up.

"Good 'ol Owen," said Bridgette, who sat close to Geoff, her "babe" for eighteen months now. Once again, she was the only girl at our table. For the most part, our table consisted of the football jocks, a pack that had become something like family over the years. And of course, surfer girl over here, who opted to spend her time with us guys when she wasn't sitting with the environmental club.

Through the window, I saw Tyler West kicking a soccer ball outside. Seeing him brought me back to a time when the man actually used to eat lunch. With us, anyway. Before the sudden shift, before he'd become so cold, he'd been a close buddy of mine.

My eyes wandered again, somehow finding themselves rested at another table. It was the one that belonged to Heather Storm, former Queen Bee, and Lindsay Grace Parker, who was also staring off into the window, a little dazed. I knew she was looking at Tyler. She seemed so sad.

Then from the corner of my eye, I found her. No, not Lindsay. Eva Sanders, walking past as she chewed on beef jerky, lifting a weight in her other hand. How did she do that? Act so tough as if nothing was phasing her?

"You okay, DJ? You seem a little tense."

I snapped out of it, whatever trance I'd been under. Geoff and the others were looking at me, kind of concerned.

"Yeah," I answered, slumping forward against the table. "I'm alright."

* * *

_"What the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't grieve over."_  
**- Unknown**

* * *

**Trent (Thursday, 1:30pm; York High)**

"Hey! You new around here?"

I frowned, growing a little defensive and a little embarrassed. Man, was it _that_ obvious?

Throwing in a sigh, I turned around. In front of me stood a kid with brown hair and a friendly grin, who was a couples inches shorter than I was.

"Yeah," I responded, now just embarrassed. I lightly scratched the back of my head when I spoke, something that had become a famous habit of mine. "How could you tell?"

"Educated guess. I mean, this is probably the fourth time you've circled this entire floor."

I chuckled nervously. "God. I was hoping no one would notice that."

"It's cool," the other guy replied, his right hand outstretched. "My name's Cody, by the way."

"Trent. Nice to meet you."

"Interesting name, Trent. Mind if I see your schedule?"

"I'd rather you do, actually." I handed it to him, the crumbled white sheet in my hand that I couldn't understand for the life of me.

Cody studied the piece of paper. "Well according to this ... you have no classes on this floor."

"Figures."

"Your first period's on the left wing of the third floor, your second period's on the first, and the rest of your classes are all on the top floor. So you _should_ be on your way to the fourth floor right now, seeing as you have Advanced Functions third period."

"Ah. Thanks a lot, man. Not sure how much more of an idiot I would've looked like if it hadn't been for you."

"Don't mention it! I'll walk you there, just incase you forget which floor you're on."

I laughed. "It's my first day here, and already people are taking me for a moron. Nice."

We started up the stairwell.

"So," he brought up. "Besides I, Cody Anderson, probably the coolest guy you'll ever meet, do you know anyone else around here?"

"Just this girl I met."

"Ooh, is she cute?"

"Yeah." For some reason, the mere thought of her gave me butterflies. "Her style's a little out of the ordinary, but yeah, she's really pretty."

"Introduce me?"

"Sure, why not?"

Eventually we got to the fourth floor. I had to admit, it was a nice-looking school. Old, sure, but it had plenty of character, with art-work and memorabilia covering most of the walls.

We continued down the west wing, him checking out room numbers, me, checking out everything else. The gray and purple lockers, what looked like a new paint-job, a cute girl down the hall ...

Suddenly, I froze in place.

"Oh! Here it is! Room 419-"

"Gwen?" I called out, rushing over to her, not paying attention to much else. Porcelain skin, turquoise hair. Yes, it was her.

"Trent?" she replied, the corners of her lips curving into a smile. "No way! You dummy. You never told me you were transferring _here_ ..."

"In my defense,_ you_ never asked."

We went on, catching up on the last couple days, talking about my latest gig ...

Then I remembered Cody.

I spun around, looking where I thought he'd still be, just down the hall.

But he was no longer there.

* * *

_To be a me with a you_  
_Of course i'll be alright_  
**- Inside of Love, Nada Surf **

* * *

**Bridgette (Thursday, 2:30pm; room 213)**

The sound of the final bell ringing was music to my ears. Sweet, beautiful music.

Just as I stood to pack up my pack things, I heard the following two words: "Hey blondie!"

Naturally I looked up, you know, being blonde and all.

I found myself staring into the eyes of Eva Sanders. Tough, tough Eva. These days we were pretty cool, I mean, as cool as you could ever be with a girl like her. Still, I couldn't help but always feel sort of ..._ intimidated_ by her presence. "Yeah?"

"Can I talk to you about something?"

Not exactly what I expecting to hear.

"Of course," I answered, grabbing my things and following her out of the class. "What's up?"

We were in the hallway now, surrounded by a sea of people.

"I-" I glanced at her, watched as she got frustrated when she couldn't come up with what she wanted to say. "Nevermind."

"Are you sure-"

"Yeah. Whatever, Barbie. It's cool. Congratulations, by the way." And just like that, she marched off, her hands rolled in fists.

"Wait!"

"Forget about it!" she hollered. By then she was at least ten feet away, and she didn't turn back.

_Just leave it_, I thought, still a little unsure._ Whatever it is, she'll talk when she's ready_.

Wait a minute, what was that one thing she said? _Congratulations_? For what?

And that's when I saw it. To my left, was a purple sheet of paper, plastered to the wall. _Congrats to the follow girls! You are now apart of this year's York High Cheerleading Squad, _it read.

All of a sudden I felt sick to my stomach. Despite myself, I placed a finger on the first name, then proceeded down the list of about twenty girls.

_No way._

_Nooooooo way!_

There it was. Seventh name from the bottom.

_Bridgette Ryerson_

I made it. I, Bridgette Ryerson, once the clumsiest person on earth, had made the cheerleading squad.

Not caring that I was probably grinning like the biggest dork right now, I removed my phone from my pocket, dialling the first number I kept with me on speed-dial. I held it to my ear, unable to my contain my excitement. "Geoff! You will not _believe_ what happened to me just now ..."

* * *

**Finally got around to updating! Sorry this was such a short one, I was excited to update :)**

**Let me know what you guys think!**


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